


might last a day (minus forever)

by cherryvanilla



Series: Might Last a Day [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Growing Up, Humor, M/M, Moving On, Starting Over, Stupid Boys, fuck buddies yet not, sexual awakening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 16:22:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 52,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At twenty-five, Kyle Broflovski thought he had his life all planned out. He was living in Denver with Stan with a nice apartment and a decent job. Suddenly, his world is turned upside down when Stan breaks up with him and he loses his job all in the span of a few months. Now Kyle is back in South Park, living with his parents, and trying to figure out where he goes from here. Enter Eric Cartman, who always got under Kyle’s skin as a kid, and who was now about to do so again, in more ways than one. (A story about reevaluating yourself and your life. Or, How Kyle Broflovski Got His Groove Back.)</p><p> </p><p>Written for South Park Big Bang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	might last a day (minus forever)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who was with this story from the beginning and all the help and encouragement along the way. Lisa, Helen, and Aleesha, I'm looking at you. Major thanks to Aleesha for great beta; I'm sure it wasn't easy, darling. <3 Thank you so much to both of my artists(emixoo and NoWhere) !! The art is simply gorgeous. I'm blown away!! 
> 
> This story is personal for many reasons and has a special place in my heart. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> Title by Hole.
> 
> Some typos have been cleaned up from original posting. Art (NSFW) is embedded.

Kyle Broflovski thought he had his life all planned out. He worked at a brokerage firm in downtown Denver, a job he mostly liked, respected, and took seriously. He was one of the youngest employees, and he felt proud of that fact, of their trust in him, and the knowledge that he was good at what he did. At twenty-five years old, he was making decent money, and living with a boyfriend who also happened to be his life-long best friend. 

He and Stan finally got together in college after dancing around the issue since they were fifteen or so. They went to the University of Denver, while Wendy chose New York; she and Stan had tried to make it work for a period of time but eventually things fizzled out and died. By sophomore year, Kyle found himself spending more time in Stan’s dorm room than his own, which was nothing unusual except instead of playing videogames they were making out in front of the TV.

By junior year, they’d gotten a single room together, and everything was exactly as it had always been, minus Stan’s fucked-up, angsty period. Only now they were having sex with each other on regular basis. After graduation, it was silently decided they’d live together. They both had money saved from part-time jobs, and rent was rather reasonable in Denver, especially for two roommates.

Thanks to two internships during college, Kyle got placed in a brokerage firm not long after graduating. Stan, meanwhile, found his dream job: an environmental group who lobbied for green energy and funding for the local aquarium.

After nearly five years of living together, he and Stan had fallen into patterns; Kyle supposed they went through cycles like any other couple. They had their share of fights, but they were tame, uneventful, and usually solved before dinner or bed. Their parents would come out to visit them, mostly as an excuse to get out of South Park, where Stan and Kyle rarely went back. Kenny worked at a local garage in town and had a different girlfriend every few months, all of whom he invited to live with him. Stan joked it was just for the rent, and Kyle would say that’s not a bad reason, which would lead to a fight about living together just for convenience. This was usually their main fight, along with Kyle being too into his work or his computer.

For the past few months, Kyle had been incredibly busy with work. He’d also become rather obsessed with Twitter and Tumblr, but Stan hated all things social networking; he’d come home and find Kyle on the couch with his laptop on his legs and look at the machine as if it was the plague, which would piss Kyle off. 

“Can you plug my power cord back in?” Kyle would say.

“I’d like to throw your cord in the fish tank,” Stan would reply. Kyle just rolled his eyes.

He didn’t really take any of it seriously at first. But eventually Stan started to complain, “Is it too much for you to get up when I come home?”

“Dude, I totally said hello.”

“Whatever, Kyle, I might as well not even be here.”

And that wasn’t fair. So Kyle had different interests. So he loved posting film posters to Tumblr and reblogging photos of awesome bookcases. So what if he had a few “online friends” he liked to talk with about film and music. Kyle always liked seeing things, knowing things, and he thought Stan understood that.

A few times after that, Stan flat out said to him, “Can you just... pay a little more attention to me while I’m here.” Kyle had been on his headset at the time with a client, trying to convince the man to invest in some stock while multitasking on Twitter.

“This is business, Stan,” he whispered.

Stan mumbled back, “It isn’t always business.” 

Afterward, Kyle made a promise to not stay online all the time. He knew he definitely succeeded a few nights. He closed his computer down before Stan came home. He didn’t multi-task when they watched their shows together or a film. Stan was appeased but then he lapsed back and Stan complaining again. He’d tried again, more recently, nearly deleted his Tumblr account too. He’d thought he was doing better. So he gave it another go and thought he’d been doing a little better recently. He was apparently wrong. 

____________________________

 

Kyle knew what to expect, day in and day out, and that was fine by him now; he thrived on it. He’d had enough chaos and craziness in his adolescence to last him a lifetime. He wouldn’t be taking any impromptu trips to Peru; there would be no last minute flights to Somalia to rescue his brother from pirates or following a weird man with a top hat into Imaginationland. Kyle had seen and done more things than most people have in their entire lives. Leaving South Park meant leaving bedlam and disorder. And he was fine with that. Perfectly fine.

Therefore, naturally, a cruel irony had to disrupt his cozy living on a ordinary day in September when Stan came home late with a look on his face that said something was definitely wrong. 

“Are you okay? Did someone die?”

“No. Listen, Kyle, we have to talk.”

And in that moment, Stan didn’t need to say anymore. Kyle knew it just as sure as he knew Eric Cartman hated Jews; Stan was ending it.

He could have blurted out “why?” but he gave Stan the courtesy of saying it the way he undoubtedly rehearsed. They sat on the couch, a few feet apart.

“Look, Kyle... we’ve had some great times.. but lately, these past few months, I haven’t been feeling the same way. And you... I just feel you’re somewhere else. You’re always doing work on your laptop, always have that damn headset on even when we’re watching a game, making deals, worrying about your client’s lives more than ours.”

“I’m making us money!”

“Well, what about the times you’re _not_ working and staring at the screen lost in your social networking world?”

“Excuse me for having interests, Stan! Jesus, didn’t we already deal with this?” 

“You ignored me! That’s all you fucking _do_ is ignore me!” 

Kyle flinched. “That’s not –”

“Come on, Kyle, don’t deny it. If I asked you what cause my job was working for right now, you probably couldn’t even tell me. If I asked you the last time we had sex, you’d probably have to consult a calendar.”

And the sad part was, deep down, Kyle knew Stan was right. He’d fallen into a pattern of comfort with someone who was and always would be his best friend, and he thought that was enough. Kyle knew he loved Stan more than he’d ever loved anyone, but he didn’t feel the way the movies told him he should feel. Kyle wasn’t sure if that had something to do with Stan specifically or if that was just how he’d loved in general; after all, he didn’t really have much else to base it on besides a few fumbling handjobs during freshman year, which most certainly did not constitute as love. 

To be honest, he was rather surprised Stan had the balls to do this – he was passive until pushed. Kyle wondered what it was that caused his breaking point.

“So... that’s it, then?” Kyle asked, though it wasn’t really a question. He met Stan’s eyes and saw regret, sadness, remorse. 

“You’re my best friend. The rest just isn’t working right now. Maybe it will again some day. I don’t know.”

Kyle snorted. “If you expect me to wait around for you, you’re crazy.”

Stan laughed. “No, I don’t. That’s one of the reasons I love you.”

They locked eyes again and the impact really began to hit him. “Love you, too,” Kyle said. 

Then they were hugging. Kyle squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face into Stan’s neck. They broke apart and Kyle pulled out a pen and paper, writing down his financial situation now that it’ll just be him in the apartment. He couldn’t help it, he was practical as fuck and even though his heart is mostly breaking, he still had to live.

Stan slept on the couch that night. The next day he told Kyle he’d be moving in Kenny.

“What about his girlfriend?”

“Long gone, man.”

“Why did I even ask?”

“I’ll pay my half of the rent for the rest of this month... and uh, we’ll figure out splitting up our phone service I guess.”

“Yeah. Sure.” 

Kyle split up their DVDs; they debated who really owned the _Terrance and Phillip_ seasons and Stan traded Kyle _I Love You Man_ and _Forgetting Sarah Marshal_ l for _Sunshine_. Kyle mourned the loss silently, but gladly accepted his Jason Segel films. 

Another debate was the fish. “I’ll take them, I guess?” Stan suggested, and Kyle let them go, seeing as Stan took care of them anyway. 

Kenny helped Stan move out that Saturday, holding up his hands to Kyle while he said, “I’m not taking sides, okay? Can this not be a thing where I have to choose one of you?”

Kyle patted him on the back. “It’s cool, dude. We’re fine, seriously.” And they were – the night before they talked some more and decided they weren’t going to let this ruin their friendship.

“Our relationship was seriously just an extension of that anyway, right? Take away the sex and what do you have left – just us,” Kyle said, and Stan agreed wholeheartedly. They already had plans to go to a concert on Monday and bowling Thursday. It was like nothing had really changed – except for the fact that Kyle had really gotten used to living with someone.

After Stan was moved out, Kyle wandered around the apartment. It looked too empty. Nights were even weirder without a warm body next to his; although to be fair, he usually crawled into bed after Stan was already asleep, and cuddling had stopped long ago. Kyle would have gone on living that way for the rest of his life – it didn’t feel wrong to him. He loved Stan, Stan loved him. So maybe things weren’t perfect, maybe there wasn’t a lot of excitement or passion – but there was comfort and security and Kyle didn’t really care about much else. That was where he and Stan differed – Stan wasn’t willing to except the status quo and Kyle always knew that. He probably should have seen this coming, but even though the signs were there he thought everything would end up being okay.

It was perhaps the world’s most amicable break-up. They went to the concert together and it didn’t feel like much had changed, except Stan’s hands no longer found their way around Kyle’s waist and Kyle didn’t buy drinks for the both of them. 

Life went on, and Kyle threw himself into work, but managed to keep hanging out with Stan and Kenny. Their apartment was a typical bro-pad, complete with a piled up empty beer cans, pizza boxes on the floor, and dishes a mile high. Stan wasn’t exactly the neatest person when living with Kyle; he never changed the toilet paper roll, never put his dishes in the sink, left wet towels on the back of the couch, and had some type of phobia of folding laundry. Not to mention Kyle needing to yell at him to wash his hands after going to the bathroom like he was a child. He never did forget that day at the waterpark; he learned far too many cringe-worthy things about Stan that afternoon.

Naturally, over two months later, just as Kyle was adjusting to living alone, the universe decided to throw out another “fuck you.” Kyle knew the economy was going to shit, but he didn’t expect it to happen so quickly. His boss called him into his office and informed him the company was downsizing; Because of his age and lack of seniority, Kyle was the first to go. 

Kyle packed up his desk, his mind reeling in terms of options. He met Kenny and Stan at a local bar and buried his face in his hands for most of the night. 

“Jesus, dude, I’m so sorry. You can… come live with us?” 

Kyle raised his head long enough to roll his eyes at Stan’s words. “We just _stopped_ living together.”

Stan held his hand up in apology. “You’re right, sorry, I just. God, this fucking blows.” 

“Yeah, this fucking blows,” Kenny repeated, though his eyes were already scoping out a chick across the bar. Kyle would expect nothing else.

“I don’t really have much saved... not to pay the rent for very long, anyway. And unemployment will probably only cover half, so...”

Stan winced and Kyle looked away, not wanting to see his pity. 

“So there’s really only one option right now, until I find something else.” 

“Oh God, no.” 

“Do you think I _want_ to, Stan? I haven’t got a fucking choice.” 

And that was how Kyle Broflovski found himself back in South Park and living with his parents.

__________________

“Bubbie!” His mom cried as she opened the door, gathering Kyle up into a bear hug.

“Hi, Mom,” he said, half-heartedly.

“Oh my baby, losing your life partner and job all at once. I told you that lifestyle would only bring you heartache.”

Kyle tried to keep his temper in check. “Just leave Stan out of this, okay?

“Okay, we’ll talk about it later. Gerald, Kyle’s here!” she screeched, before continuing, “Can I get you some warm milk?”

“Mom, I need to unpack…”

“Hey, son, how ya doin’?” his father stepped up behind his mother. His parents looked the same as always – nothing was different. They were the most predictable things about South Park. The town itself is boring on a normal day, but Kyle doesn’t remember many normal days. He remembers drama and idiocy and scandal on every corner.

His dad hugged him, patting his back. “You’ll bounce back in no time.”

“Right, thanks,” he muttered, skeptically.

“Where’s all your furniture and stuff?”

“I uh, rented a storage unit back in Denver for now, but I doubt I’ll be able to keep it for long.”

“Now don’t you worry about that, we’ll take care of it,” his mother promised.

“No idea where your brother is, son. He’s turned into a class-cutting hippie.”

“Gerald! Don’t speak that way about Ike!”

“Well, it’s true!”

His parents began arguing and Kyle slowly backed out of the house. “I’m just gonna... grab some stuff...”

He escaped outside and took a deep gulp of air. This was perhaps the worst idea ever. He pulled out his phone and texted Stan: 

**Shoot me, please.**

The response was immediate: 

**Stay strong. Love you.**

He still loved seeing those words, even though they failed to send the thrill through him they used to. He and Stan used to text non-stop when they first got together. In fact, Kyle had to increase his messaging service for it. He lived for Stan’s texts, both flirty and non, but a few years down the road the morning texts of “hope you have a great day, I love you”, had stopped. They barely spoke during the day, and when Stan did happen to call him, Kyle would always be with a client with an impatient tone in his voice and Stan would get pissed off even though he should have understood Kyle was _busy_. 

Kyle wasn’t sure why the small innocuous texts had stopped. He just knew things had changed over the years where they were merely co-existing. It was easier to see that now.

His first night back in his old room was weird, to say the least. He organized his clothes, put up a poster here and there, and finally went online to look for job openings. There wasn’t much, but he managed to find find one firm to apply to.

The next day he called Unemployment. For a few days Kyle obsessively checked his email and phone for a response, but there were no replies and no other jobs listed on Craigslist. Resigned, Kyle walked around town, reacquainting himself. It looked the same, the storefronts, and the people. Some faces he barely recognized said hi here and there. Classmate wise, he wasn’t sure who was even living in South Park anymore. He’d lost touch with a lot of people after college and eventually the novelty of Facebook wore off; Stan had been right about that much. 

Kyle wandered around town, pausing in front of the local Game Stop. There was a “help wanted” sign on the door. As a kid, Kyle had dreamed about working here and getting discounts on all the games. Now, he begrudgingly walked inside and asked for an application. He filled it out there and was told he was overqualified.

“Look, I don’t really care that this is a significant pay decrease – I need a job, alright?”

The manager took pity on him, and the next day, Kyle was in retail making ten bucks an hour.

___________________

The job was easy and mostly boring. Kyle was used to energy – there wasn’t much of that at Game Stop unless someone was bitching about a game being sold out. Kyle was stocking the shelves when the bell rung. 

It was around noon and the store was normally dead until school let out, save for the few parents coming in to pick up gifts for their kids. Kyle didn’t bother to greet the customer after hearing the bell chim, and instead continued shelving the new releases. 

“Well, well, look what the Jews let in.” Kyle would know that voice anywhere. 

Eric Cartman was suddenly standing right next to him. Kyle didn’t turn to face him fully, just jerked his head… and nearly dropped his jaw. 

Cartman looked -- really fucking good. He was wearing a button down light blue shirt, dark jeans, and his hair was a little shaggy, but short. Kyle hadn’t seen him since they were seventeen and if possible, it seemed as though Cartman had grown a few inches, and more into his body. He was tall, and his face was kind of big, and if Kyle had to compare him to someone it would be Jason Segel; the same coloring, same build. Sadly, this wasn’t any sort of an insult, as Kyle always had a ridiculous thing for Jason Segel. Stan caught him watching _Forgetting Sarah Marshall_ on more than one occasion and mainlining _Freaks and Geeks_. Stan figured it out after discovering that the actor was the only connection to the two and liked to tease him about it as Kyle’s normal type was, more or less, Stan. 

But much to Kyle’s chagrin, Catman looked good and Kyle hated that he couldn’t deny that fact. 

“What are you, slummin’ it?” Cartman sneered, and Kyle broke out of his haze.

“Can I help you, _sir?_ ” Kyle said, defiantly, loving the speechless look on Cartman’s face. 

“Y-you. Seriously?” Cartman sputtered. 

Kyle frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Seriously.” 

“Oh my God, this is too awesome,” Cartman said.

“You’re such a tool, Cartman.” Kyle dismissed him and walked off behind the counter, knowing it would only piss Cartman off more.

“Eh! You’re not treating the customer with respect,” Cartman yelled after him. 

“If I have to be nice to you, this job isn’t worth keeping.” 

“Such a mouthy Jew. Is that why the hippie threw you out?” 

Kyle stopped, flabbergasted and turned to face him. “Wha—how do you even know I’m with Stan?!” _Was with Stan_ , his mind corrected. 

“Kenny, of course. We are simpatico.”

Kyle needed to remember to kill Kenny, the bastard. 

“So what happened? Is it because you have sand in your vagina? Really, Kyle, I told you to take care of that years ago.” 

“I don’t have sand in my vagina!” Kyle yelled, gripping the countertop. 

“Yet you _are_ admitting you have a vagina. My, my Kyle, I always knew you’d be the bitch.” He still said Kyle’s name the same way, drawing it out into a whining taunt. 

“Dammit, Cartman! I do not have a vagina and I am not a bitch!” 

Cartman smirked at him. “Jeez, you haven’t changed one bit.” 

He gaped at Cartman. “I— _I_ haven’t changed?! You’re one to talk.” 

“You’d be surprised,” Cartman said vaguely, before continuing, “So, seriously, the hippie finally dump your ass?” 

“I’m not discussing my personal life with you,” Kyle bit out and began fixing the games behind the counter. 

“God, don’t be such a fag, Kyle.” 

Kyle leveled a deadly glare at him. “Don’t call me that, asshole. Unless you mean it in the motorcycling riding douchebag way.” 

“No, I mean ‘fag’ fag and I can call you that – us fags can use that word.” 

Kyle thought his jaw might drop through the floor. “You’re joking.” 

“’Fraid not. I play for your team, Jew. Doesn’t that just make your vagina ever so sandy?” 

Kyle couldn’t even come up with a good comeback. He was thrown by Eric Cartman not only showing up to his store, not only looking _fucking good_ but also being gay and proceeding to rev Kyle up just like old times. He felt a twinge of desire race through his body as he thought of Cartman; tall, stocky Cartman fucking some guy while taunting expletives in his ear. 

“I don’t care who you fuck, Cartman. Now, are you actually here to buy something at…” Kyle looked at his watch, “12:20 in the afternoon when most people are at work?” 

Cartman waved his hand dismissively. “I’m on lunch. And yes, as a matter fact, I have the new NBA X-Box game on hold. Fetch that for me, oh meager cashier.” 

Kyle gritted his teeth. “I’m a sales associate.” 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to get through the day, Kyle.” 

Kyle begrudgingly retrieved the game and rang Cartman up. He watched as he removed some bills from a _Terrance and Phillip_ wallet and felt a jolt of fondness, thinking of his own boxers at home. Some things never changed. 

He took the money from Cartman. Their fingers brushed on the exchange and their eyes met at the same time. Kyle’s lips felt painfully dry and he had to stop himself from licking them. He couldn’t read the expression on Cartman’s face.

Cartman cleared his throat. “Well. Maybe I’ll see you around.” 

“God, I hope not,” Kyle responded automatically but he couldn’t suppress a shiver as Cartman gave him one last stare before leaving. 

_______________________

Stan called him that night while Kyle stared at Craigslist and willed something to be posted. 

“How’s it going?” Stan said, chewing in his ear. 

“It sucks,” Kyle said, flopping onto his back and slamming his Macbook closed. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” 

“Not really your fault,” Kyle said. 

“It kind of is... I mean, at least you wouldn’t be back in South Park…” 

“Or working at Game Stop,” Kyle said ruefully. “Maybe.” 

“I can’t believe you took that job. Why not just wait for the Unemployment to kick in?” Stan was chewing louder now. Kyle always hated when Stan chewed in his ear. 

“It can still kick in... I’m only working part-time. Figure I could at least supplement some income, you know?” 

Stan laughed, a little fondly. “Don’t you ever get tired of being practical, Kyle?”

“I was born this way,” Kyle said, and Stan just laughed more and started humming Lady Gaga. 

“Asshole,” and then they were both laughing, and it felt good. 

The laughter died away after a few moments, and Stan started talking again, voice serious, his chewing stopped. “I really have the worst timing, don’t I?”

Kyle shook his head and pressed his fingers to the bridge of nose. “You were only doing what I couldn’t. Way not to be passive, Stan,” he grinned, sardonically. 

Stan laughed lightly. “Making up for lost time, I guess.” 

They lapsed into conversation; about Kenny and the new girl he had his eye on, about the latest environmental cause at Stan’s job. Stan’s rumbling laughter in his ear felt comfortable and familiar. 

They soon trailed off into silence. 

“Sooo…” said Stan, “wanna have phone sex?” 

Kyle choked and then started laughing. 

“Hey!” Stan exclaimed. 

“Dude, we didn’t even have phone sex when we were together.” 

“Well, maybe we should try,” Stan said, voice a little throaty and okay, so that still got to Kyle a bit, he was only human.

But seriously. “So, what, now you wanna try again?” Kyle said, incredulously. 

“I dunno, maybe?” Stan replied, quietly. “I still love you.” 

Kyle sighed. “I love you too, but you’re just regressing, Stan. We’ve been friends longer than we were boyfriends. You know we work better that way.” 

“Okay… you’re right, I know you’re right. I’m just horny.” 

Kyle laughed and stretched out his legs. “So jump Kenny.” 

“Ha. He wishes.”

They dissolved into laughter. When they grew silent again, Kyle found himself blurting out, “So I saw Cartman today.” 

“No way!” Stan exclaimed. “What’s that fatass up to?” 

“Um, busy losing weight?” Kyle replied, absently trailing fingers over his stomach, willing away an image of Cartman in his mind. 

“No shit. Can we still call him fatass?” 

Kyle snorted. “Yeah, sure. He’s not like, skinny, dude, just... I dunno. He looks taller, too. Is that even possible?’ 

“I think so? Don’t guys grow into their late teens? Late spurts and all that?” 

Kyle didn’t know, all he knew was Cartman was a little taller than him, bigger than him, and Kyle vaguely wondered what his arms and shoulders looked like naked, if there was some muscle definition, and breadth. 

He was so caught up in his thoughts, he nearly missed Stan's words. “Same old asshole as always, though?” 

Kyle’s mouth crooked into a grin. “Yeah... same asshole.” 

The words sounded far too fond to his ears, but if Stan noticed, he didn’t say anything. Kyle hung up and found himself thinking about college and the lack of excitement in his classes. All through high school, he and Cartman had an extraordinary amount of classes together. During each one, Cartman would repeatedly say something contrary to Kyle’s viewpoints, be it on the reading or current world events. Many of the classes would dissolve into a debate between them and the teachers normally let it go on because Cartman actually had some decent points. That was, until he’d resort to bigoted or racist dialogue that would get him sent to the principal. 

In college, no one debated with him in that way and Kyle would very often look around the room for a boy in a red jacket. 

He fell asleep thinking about Cartman’s place in his life and idly wondering why he was almost excited to be back home now. 

________________________________

Two days later, Kyle looked up from behind the counter to see Cartman entering the store, looking like he hadn’t a care in the world. Kyle felt a pang of jealousy. 

Cartman set his sights on Kyle, like a shark eying its prey. 

“You’re still here! Thought your pride would’ve been eating you up by now, Jew. Oh wait, I forgot – money is money to you people.” 

Kyle could make out the suspenders under Cartman’s brown jacket. It was odd how he looked like a kid playing dress up still. His jeans were fitted and Kyle briefly let his gaze linger on the thickness of Cartman’s thighs. 

“Is this seriously what you do all day, Cartman? Play video games?” 

Cartman rolled his eyes and tapped his fingers against the Call of Duty display. “Please, don’t act like you don’t love them.” 

“Not saying I don’t, but we aren’t kids anymore. I don’t sit around playing them all day.” 

“Have you _seriously_ never heard of a lunch break?”

Just when Kyle was about to give into curiosity and ask ‘“lunch break from what”, he was saved the trouble. 

“Cartman, the Chief needs you ASAP, get your ass back here,” came a voice from the inside of Cartman’s coat. Kyle watched, wide-eyed, as he retrieved a walkie-talkie, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks. 

“Can’t a guy take a fucking break, anymore? Has _no one_ heard of the concept?” 

“Preaching to the choir, partner. Now move.” 

“Tell him to untwist his panties. I’ll fucking be there.”

Cartman pocketed the radio with a huff and raised his eyes to meet Kyle’s. Kyle was fully aware he was staring but couldn’t help it. 

“You’re a …. _cop_?” 

“Correction; I _was_ a cop. Now I’m a detective.” 

Kyle’s eyes grew wider. “Seriously?!” he said, in the same incredulous tone he’d used on Cartman for years. 

“Super serious. While you and the hippie were off getting your edu-ma-cations, _I_ have had not one but _two_ careers.” 

Kyle felt as thought he’d entered the Twilight Zone. Or ImaginationLand. Something. “But... _you?_ They let _you_ on the police force. Don’t you have to, like, not be a bigot for that?” 

Cartman looked at Kyle as if he had two heads. “Kyle,” Cartman said, patiently. “What world do you live in?” 

“Jesus Christ! You probably just accuse all the minorities!” 

“It usually _is_ the minorities!” 

“Oh my God. How did you even get in?” 

“Lieutenant Dawson always saw something in me. I had no use for school and one day he said, “just take the test.” So I did, passed, busted a bunch of perps, but man, you see one Mexican you’ve seen them all. I was getting sooo burnt out and then Dawson was like, ‘you should take the detective’s exam’ and I did, and here I am.”

Kyle couldn’t lie, he was completely flabbergasted. And something else, too. “Cartman... I’m... impressed.” The words left a foul taste in his mouth, but he was nothing if not fair. 

Cartman smirked. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” 

Kyle’s eyebrows knitted together. “No. That’s all you’re getting.” 

Cartman shuffled around for something in his pocket. “But, seriously, one more time? I wanna get this.” He held out a digital audio recorder. 

“No, Cartman,” he said, voice indignant, stubborn, feeling as though he was all of nine years old again. 

Cartman grinned. “Always such a stubborn bitch.” 

Kyle flipped him off. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” 

Cartman leveled him the same stare from the other day, an intensity in his eyes that made Kyle’s body temperature rise. 

“To be continued.” His voice was deep; the words somewhere between a threat and a promise, and Kyle inexplicably felt his cock twitch. 

He shamelessly watched Cartman’s ass as he walked away and realized he’d thought more about sex in the last few days than he had in six months. He honestly didn’t know what was happening to him; maybe it was something in the water. 

___________________________

Sure enough, Cartman returned the next time Kyle was working. And the time after that. Kyle didn’t even work every day, so naturally, he was suspicious.

“Hey, uh, Dwayne, you know Cartman?” 

“It’s kind of hard _not_ to know Cartman in this town, man. Stories about him are legendary. Did he really feed some kid his parents?” 

Kyle wasn’t surprised that was the one story that repeatedly had come up from childhood to adolescence. “Um, I don’t remember. Look, does he always come in this much?” 

Dwayne stopped to think. He was a peanut of a guy, all of twenty years old with thick black glasses and even thicker hair. “I don’t think so? Seems more recently, lately.” 

He shouldn’t have been surprised; it was what he’d expected. Except he can’t stop thinking about how each time he saw Cartman he was just waiting to feel Cartman’s eyes on him. He had been enjoying their tête-à-tête more than he could ever remember; it brought familiarity yet set him on edge all at once. 

The next time Cartman came in, Kyle couldn’t stop thinking about Dwayne’s confirmation that this is unusual. 

“Don’t you ever, you know, _eat_ on your lunch break?” Kyle said, before he could stop himself. 

“Why, Kyle, are you actually telling me, the fatass, to _eat_? Admit it, I look fine to your shifty eyes, bitch. I’m a cuddly motherfucker.” 

Kyle rolled his eyes. “You’re not a cuddly _anything_ , Cartman.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re a lying Jew, but deep down, you’d cuddle the shit outta all this, ya fag.” He grinned, gesturing to his body as he gave a little shake. 

“You’re fucking delusional, asshole,” Kyle replied, hating the unmistakable rise in heat to his face. Cartman always got under his skin but it was never this acute, not even in high school. _You didn’t suddenly find him hot in high school_ , a voice in his head said, and he shook it away, because this was fucking insane, stupid, and he didn’t even feel like he had control over his own libido anymore.

Cartman’s radio went off at that moment, thankfully. “Yo, Cartman, pick me up a cheeseburger on your way back.” 

“Why don’t you just get your ass outta the station and do it _yourself_ , Craig?” 

_Wait, Craig?_ “Craig is your partner?!” Kyle blurted out. 

“Who the hell are you with, man?” Craig’s voice rang through the speakers. 

“That’s just some annoying Ginger we used to know,” Cartman said, smiling at Kyle with mock sweetness. “Going, Craig, be back with your salad in twenty...” 

“Dude, I said...!” 

Cartman turned off the radio mid-sentence, and a smug grin tugged at his lips. 

“I cannot believe Craig is your partner. You hated him.” 

“I hate everyone, Kyle.” 

“This is true,” Kyle said, and realized he was grinning and so was Cartman. They fell into that indescribable stare again that Kyle had thought far too much about. 

Cartman slapped his hands on the counter, breaking the moment. “Well. I need to get moving, crimes to solve, people to piss off.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Kyle said, feeling something akin to disappointment in his stomach which was flat-out ridiculous. 

Cartman turned to leave and then turned back. “That asshole Craig and I hang at Smitty’s after work because there’s shit to do in this town, as you know.” 

Kyle felt his lips part in surprise. The words were nearly a question and Cartman doesn’t do questions, he does insults and orders. 

“Okay…” he replied, skeptically, not quite sure if this was an invitation or not. 

Cartman ran a hand through his hair and Kyle had to stop himself from licking his dry lips. “Okay. 8pm.” 

And then he left the store in a few long strides, and Kyle stared after the door wondering what exactly just happened. 

________________________________

Even under the most extreme acts of torture, Kyle would never admit he changed his shirt once before deciding on a different one. Stan would roll his eyes and say “Once? Please, I used to change my clothes like five times when we first started going on dates,” and Kyle would respond, “That’s because you’re a _girl_.” Except Kyle wouldn’t be talking about this to Stan and one outfit change was one too many in Kyle’s eyes. He didn’t get nervous over things that had to do with relationships or romantic possibilities. When he was with Stan, he didn’t sit around making hearts in class or at work, thinking about him every second of every day. 

Kyle was practical about love, about life, about everything. Yet being around Cartman even for a minute period of time made him feel like his synapses were on fire; he felt nervous in the best of ways. He wanted to be pushed, wanted to be excited. He loved the feel of it. 

So there Kyle was, standing in front of his mirror in his childhood room, looking at his hair which was now shortly cropped but still fire engine red. He decided on a green polo, dark jeans, and no hat. He looked at his watch; 7:45. The pub was only a ten minute walk or so. It was freezing out and his cheeks would probably be as red as his hair by the time he arrived, but he’d rather not drive if he would be drinking and it was so close to begin with. 

Not that Kyle was equating any of this to a date, mind you. It was Cartman, for God’s sake. He probably didn’t even know the meaning of the word. And Kyle Broflovski had no interest in dating Eric Cartman… he certainly had no interest in fucking him. He just needed to get his dick on the same page. He sighed, grabbed his black winter coat and told his parents he was going out for night.

Seconds after entering the bar, Kyle heard a boisterious voice shout over the music, “Keep calm everyone, it’s just a Jew. No cause for alarm!” 

Kyle felt anger flare in his belly, and he remembered just how much Cartman pissed him off. He followed the voice to the end of the bar. He saw Craig, who looked exactly the same as he did high school (short dark hair, skinny as fuck, permanently bored expression plastered onto his face), elbow Cartman in the side. Cartman raised his eyes to meet Kyle’s. His hair was not neat and slicked back as it’s been in their previous encounters. Instead, it was shaggy and casual, sticking up at all odd angles and almost -- chic. Kyle swallowed hard as he approached, forcing himself to remember his previous irritation. 

“You’re the most redundant human being I’ve ever met,” he said by way of greeting. 

“When you find something that fits, you stay with it,” Cartman shrugged. 

“Hey, Kyle,” said Craig, leaning over Cartman to stick out his hand, behaving as though it hasn’t been years since they saw one another. 

Kyle shook Craig’s hand. “Hey, Craig. How do you put up with this on a daily basis?” he said, pointing his thumb in Cartman’s direction. 

“Eh!” Cartman shouted in opposition.

Craig ignored him. “Same way I did in high school… with a lot of internal monologue to drown him out.” 

“I’ll have to remember that,” Kyle smiled in return. 

“Okay, bitches, that’s enough. Kyle, you drinking?” 

Kyle nearly did a double take at not only his name but it being used in a sentence which sounded like an offer to buy him a drink.

Craig raised his eyebrows at Kyle and gave him a secretive grin. 

“Uh, yeah, Guinness.”

“Yo, Bob! Guinness and another Blue Moon!” 

“And what about me?” Craig asked, waving his near-empty glass. Kyle could hear the humor in his voice and it did nothing to shake away the awkwardness settling in. 

Cartman turned to him. “What about you, Craig? You have a mouth.” 

“I believe Kyle does as well,” Craig said, amusement still evident in his voice. Kyle watched as they locked eyes and he thought he saw Cartman’s jaw tighten. 

“The Jew’s a guest,” Cartman said, slapping Craig a little too hard on the back. 

Bob brought over the beers and Cartman slapped down money before Kyle could protest. “Look I’m fucking starved. Let’s get a table.” 

“Gee, I’m hungry too as someone actually _did_ bring me a salad for lunch.” 

Kyle laughed. 

“A salad is very healthy for you, Craig. You should be thanking me,” Cartman responded sweetly before picking up a few menus off the bar. “Bob, we’re going to a table. Send someone over, eh?” 

Bob just nodded absently with his back turned. They walked a few feet to where there were a row of square tables. Craig took the seat closest to the wall while Kyle sat across from Cartman. He shed his coat, hanging it on the back of the chair, and ran a hand through his hair before turning around. When he looked up he caught Cartman watching him before quickly averting his eyes, his foot bumping into Kyle’s under the table as if he was jerked out of his thoughts. Kyle felt a tingle travel up his spine. 

“Alright, I’m getting the double cheeseburger because it’s the best fucking burger in town. Oh, Craig, look at all these lovely salads.” 

“I’m getting meat, you sadist.” 

“Suit yourself. How about you, Jewboy?” 

Kyle studied the menu for a second, and then looked up, grinning. “If I said I wanted a salad, how much of the evening would you spend ranking on me?’ 

Cartman pretended to think hard, resting his head in his hand and tapping his index finger against his temple. “Well, considering I already planned to rank on you for all obvious reasons I’d say this would only increase things slightly. Mostly, I’d say that hippie really did a number on you, turned you into a vegetable-loving fruitcake vegan.” 

Kyle pretended to do some thinking of his own, before giving Cartman a sharp smile. 

“And if I got the Chef’s salad?”

 

“I would say well played, Jew, my argument is invalid.” Kyle watched as a genuine smile flashed across Cartman’s face.

Just then the waitress came over and Kyle ordered a cheeseburger. Cartman kicked him under the table. 

Craig rolled his eyes at the exchanges and ordered chicken fingers and fries. Cartman also ordered onion rings for the table.

Kyle glanced around the bar, which was clearly jumping and with a younger clientele to boot. He said as much, and Craig explained that since the opening of South Park University (an endeavor that nearly bankrupted the town) the place had been bustling with a younger crowd. 

“The chicks, dude. They’re phenomenal. All ski-bunny types.” 

Cartman waved his glass in the air. “Kyle doesn’t care about chicks. He’s not on your team. _No one_ is on your team.” 

“On the contrary,” Craig deadpanned, “I would say 99% of the town is on my team.” 

“I’m not the fucking 1% again, Craig!” Cartman shouted and more than a few heads turned around. Kyle tried to shake off his own embarrassment by association – it was par for the course if you were around Cartman. 

“Oh, that’s right, Kyle’s here now – you’re the 2%.” 

“Motherfucker.” 

Kyle downed some of his beer and started to wonder why he was even brought along. He felt like the third wheel. Things were status quo when he’d seen Cartman in the video store; it was as though nothing had changed. Now, Kyle just felt like he was placed in a passive role which was never good for him. 

The food came and Cartman’s eyes lit up. Kyle ordered another round of drinks, on him, and Cartman gave him a silent nod of thanks before biting into his burger. His eyes rolled back in his head and he started making obscene noises. 

“Oh my God, dude, come on!” Kyle exclaimed, watching the scene unfold with horror. Cartman was practically making love to his burger. 

As if reading Kyle’s thoughts, Cartman mumbled around his mouthful, “This burger is better than sex.” 

Kyle took a bite of his own food. “It’s just a burger, dude.” 

Cartman stared at him, a drop of ketchup on the corner of his mouth. “Blasphemy, Ginger. Take that back.” 

“Fine, it’s the best fucking burger I’ve ever tasted. I don’t know how I’ve existed without this burger in my life before. I’m going to take it to Bed, Bath and Beyond so we can register.” 

Cartman grinned. “You’re such a chick.” 

Kyle threw a napkin at him. “Wipe your fucking mouth, you pig.” 

Cartman did so, with exaggeration. Kyle flipped him off and turned to Craig, who was watching the exchange with that same quirky smile. 

“So, how’d you get partnered with this loser?” 

“A) Fuck you, Jew. B) Craig’s just a junior detective. Still learning the ropes, isn’t that right, Craig?” 

Kyle turned back glare at him. “Are you Craig, fatass?”

Cartman raised his hands in mock-fright. “So sorry, Kyle, I just don’t know what got into me. Please, do forgive me.” 

Kyle opened his mouth to tell the asshole off when he heard a throat clear. “ _Anyway_!” Craig interrupted, “The fatass is correct. I’m technically still a cop, I’m waiting to take the test so right now I’m partnered with him and he’s uh, kind of a mentor.” 

Kyle winced and was about to throw out another insult when Cartman began talking. “It’s bullshit, really. Craig’s better than most of the guys that have been there for twenty years. They didn’t let him take the test six months ago because they said he needed to put more time in—so now he’s like, trailing me and being my bitch and for what? Stupid bureaucratic bullshit.” 

Kyle was speechless. He looked over at Craig who didn’t seem shocked in the least; completely unsurprised that the guy he’d been arguing with all night just paid him a genuine compliment. Maybe some people did change. 

“So, what are you guys working on right now?” Kyle asked, noticing Cartman’s vague look of discomfort. 

Cartman shoved an onion ring into his mouth. “Oh, you know, the most exciting shit ever. Who defaced the window of puppy mill with ‘Fuck Puppy Mills You Motherfucker.’ Or, I dunno, the person who keeps replacing the film names on the sign at our one lame old school movie theater with porn titles. What were the ones this week, Craig?’ 

“I think that would be Sex Trek: The Next Penetration and Indiana Jones and the Temple of Poon, Sir.”

Cartman snickered, and Kyle chuckled to himself. 

“Yes, so, those are some of our exciting adventures right now while the Mexicans lie low and the druggies brace for the cold.” 

Kyle shook his head and raised his newly-refreshed beer. “Jesus, Cartman, enough with the Mexicans.” 

“Why? Outside of the Jews and the Gingers, Mexicans are the most shifty and untrustworthy of the minorities,” he said, reaching over to steal one of Kyle’s fries even though he had his own plateful. 

Kyle slapped at his hand. “Do you seriously hear yourself?” 

Cartman looked around. “Testing, testing. Yes, that’s my voice. I do hear myself, Kyle, thank you for your concern over my health.” 

“Oh my God!” Kyle shouted, taking another bite of his burger. 

Craig looked back and forth between them. “I guess some things don’t change, huh?” 

“Shut up, Craig!” they both said at the same time. 

He met Cartman’s eyes and saw the humor in them, but he refused to let himself rise to the bait, determined to stay angry for as long as he could, out of principle. 

“I need to fuck somebody,” Cartman decided, out of nowhere, slamming his beer glass down. Kyle wished those words didn’t make his body temperature rise. 

He was about to reply with a glib remark, but Craig beat him to it. “Yeah, like anyone would touch you.” 

“Oy, just because you can’t have me, Craig, doesn’t mean you should hate those who can.” 

“In your dreams, Cartman.” 

“My nightmares, maybe.” 

Irrationally, Kyle felt a rare stab of jealousy. Cartman clearly had someone in his life who he could spar with. Kyle foolishly thought that was his unique place in Cartman’s life but clearly he wasn’t very missed. 

“Whatever, mothefucker, I could totally bag someone.”

Craig waved his hand. “Go ahead and try.” 

Cartman glanced around and seemed to settle for the closest target, the guy at the table right next to theirs, who was sitting with two other friends. 

Kyle felt his throat tighten as Cartman tapped him rather roughly on the shoulder. He suddenly didn’t want to hear any of this. 

“Hey there,” Cartman said, using that sickeningly sweet voice. 

The guy looked him up and down. He was small and blonde. He looked like a total college townie. He looked like the kind of guy Cartman would sooner rag on than fuck. Kyle got the feeling the guy might in fact be gay; he also got the feeling he was less than impressed with Cartman. 

“Uh, hi.” 

“Having a good night?” Cartman smiled. 

“Yeah, you?” 

Cartman let his fingers trail up the guys arm. “Not too bad. You know what would make it better?” 

Even Kyle could see the way the guy’s eyes narrowed at Cartman’s touch. 

“No… what?” 

“Seeing what you look like spread out on my bedsheets,” Cartman uttered, voice syrupy. Kyle groaned at the exact same time as Craig and felt his face heat with second-hand embarrassment. 

The guy straightened up so Cartman’s hand fell away. “Yeah, thanks but no thanks.” 

Kyle watched something flicker in Cartman’s gaze. “Oh, please, I know you’re queer. Who picked out your ascot? Chuck Bass? Do you even _know_ how long that show’s been off the air?” 

The guy looked like he was contemplating throwing his drink in Cartman’s face. “If being _queer_ means having to be attracted to you, I’d rather be straight,” he sneered and turned back around to his table. 

Cartman looked speechless for a second, and then said to the guy’s back, “Yeah, well, you won’t get a better offer all night, fucker,” before turning back to the table in a huff. 

He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes and Kyle realized he felt no triumph in the outcome. Cartman was an ass, that much was true, but even as a kid he remembered never wanting him hurt or harmed, and always felt rather embarrassed for him when he did something stupid.

“Yeah, so, beat that, Craig,” Cartman said sardonically, downing the rest of his beer and waving his empty glass in his hand for another. 

“Gee, Cartman, I dunno. That’ll be tough. Now if you gentleman will excuse me, there’s a snow-bunny at twelve o’clock calling my name.” 

Kyle watched him get up and walk toward a redhead in a white fur coat and big black boots. Stan would have been out of his chair just as fast: to tell her off for the innocent animal she was wearing. 

Cartman’s drink had arrived and he was doing his best to chug it. 

Kyle wanted to say things such as “you really need to have more tact” or “I would have turned you down flat too” but there was something about Cartman’s silence and the redness of his cheeks that kept the words from forming. Instead, they were left in nothing but awkward silence as “American Pie” pumped through the speakers. 

This ended up being the icebreaker as Cartman said a few moments later, “Fucking hippie music.” 

Kyle couldn’t help but grin. “Stan loves this song.” 

Cartman met his eyes for the first time since the rejection, an evil grin in his eyes. “Exactly my point. So, what happened with the hippie anyway?” 

If Kyle listened hard enough he could swore he heard genuine interest in the question. “I guess I fucked up.” 

Cartman barked out a mean laugh. “Seriously? He left you and _you_ fucked up?”

Kyle ran his hand up and down his glass. “I was too into my fucking job, too into myself. Not... into him, I guess.” He didn’t want to be talking about this with Cartman; he barely even talked about it with Kenny. 

“So Stan’s a boring motherfucker and that’s your problem. I see. God, you’re pathetic.” 

Kyle jerked his head up, anger boiling in his chest. “I’m not pathetic, asshole. Easy for you to fucking say. Just how many relationships have you even _had_? 

“Two.” 

Kyle blinked. “I’m sorry?” 

“Two. One a year out of high school which lasted six months and one a few years ago which lasted a year until he fucking cheated with some junkie whore, whom I busted and then proceeded to get myself checked for all the diseases.” He paused. “I don’t have any.” 

Kyle didn’t expect him to answer the question, much less for there to _be anyone_. 

“In between that and since, there’s been a copious amount of sex. Is there anything else you care to know? Do I pass your test? Can I now call you pathetic?”

Kyle’s throat burned. “Then you should know this shit isn’t cut and dry. There isn’t just one person to blame.” 

“Uh, sometimes there is, Jew. Unless I’m supposed to take blame for being cheated on?” 

“Your circumstance is different than mine. Stan and I.. we’re better as friends.” There was no way he was telling Cartman anything else. 

“Whatever, dude.” He tossed a napkin at Kyle. “Don’t start crying, that’s so weak.” 

Kyle threw the napkin back and raised his chin defiantly. “I’m not, Jesus Christ, you bastard.” 

Cartman grinned broadly, as if that were the exact response he was hoping for. “So, before you lost your man _and_ your job--” he paused, coughing out the word “pathetic” while Kyle glared at him. “--what kind of mundane work were you doing?” 

Kyle kicked Cartman under the table. “We all can’t have such exciting lives as yours, fatass. Remind me again what your latest cases are?” 

“Touche,” Cartman said, waving his hand dismissively. 

“I was an investment broker. I advised rich assholes and business people how to be even wealthier.” 

Cartman stole another one of Kyle’s fries. “A Jew working with money. I’m simply shocked.”

“Yeah, you know, all that gold hanging around my neck gets so heavy after a while.” 

Cartman snorted. “Did you actually like what you were doing?” 

Kyle thought for a moment. “I was good at it.” 

“Not the same thing,” Cartman said around the food in his mouth. 

Kyle ran a hand through his hair. “Not really, I guess. But, you know, good money and I threw myself into it.”

“At the end of the day, a job’s just a job,” Cartman intoned, sounding far too wise for Kyle’s ears. 

What gave Cartman the right to have it all figured out? “You know, that’s a little hard to say when people spend more time working than they do anything else.” 

Cartman shrugged, completely not engaging in Kyle’s irritation. “So you shrug it off at the end of the day. You don’t take it home with you. Sounds to me the latter is exactly what you were doing.”

Kyle hated when Cartman was right. “Maybe.” 

Cartman was looking past Kyle now, towards the bar. “What?” Kyle said, turning. 

There was a guy, reasonably attractive and he seemed to be… looking at Cartman. Kyle hated the instant hot furl of annoyance; he refused to call it jealousy. He looked back at Cartman, who seemed to be attempting a sexy look. Kyle rolled his eyes in exaggerated fashion, hoping Cartman would notice. He didn’t. 

“Excuse me, Jewboy,” he said, standing and clapping Kyle on the shoulder. Kyle wanted to protest – after all _he_ was invited here and now both members of his party were attempting to pick someone up. He snuck a glance at Craig, who had the redhead hanging all over him. Craig noticed him and gave a cheeky thumbs up. He switched seats so he could have a look at Cartman. He sat there, trying not to watch but all too aware of the way the guy was smiling at Cartman, the way Cartman was playfully trailing a finger up his arm, less overt than before. 

Cartman said something and the guy laughed. Kyle found himself wanting to know what it was. The guy leaned in close and whispered in Cartman’s ear and Kyle saw red. He forced himself to look away and pulled out his phone. 

He texted Kenny. **What are you up to?**

**Trying to get fucking laid** came the response and Kyle wanted to bang his head on the table. Was that what the entire fucking world was doing? 

**That seems to be going around** he texted back. 

**Use protection ;)** Kenny typed back and Kyle wanted to throw his phone against the wall. 

He looked up again to find Cartman and the guy still talking. Cartman finally looked in Kyle’s direction and the look on his face was so feral and his eyes were so dark that Kyle’s breath caught in his throat. Kyle couldn’t stop himself from dragging his tongue over his bottom lip and he could’ve sworn Cartman’s eyes darkened a fraction more, his gaze shifting to Kyle’s mouth. Kyle’s heart began to race and he felt his cock twitch. Cartman broke the moment, a haze in his eyes as he turned back to the guy. He spoke to him for a few seconds more and then stepped away and back towards Kyle. 

Cartman reclaimed his old seat, which placed him right next to Kyle. “Fucking thirsty,” he said, taking a long swig of beer and wiping at the sweat on his forehead. 

Kyle was getting half-hard in his jeans, smelling the proximity of Cartman’s cologne mixed with perspiration. He forced the previous moment to the back of his mind and nodded towards the bar. “That looked promising.” 

Cartman looked at him, and for the first time Kyle was able to take in his flushed cheeks, his dilated pupils. He felt warmth pool in his groin. 

“Eh. The guy preferred _Beavis and Butthead_ to _Terrance and Philip_. I cannot copulate with someone who has such low comedic standards.” 

Kyle had to bite his lip around a grin. He wondered how much, if any, of that were true. “Yes, that’s a definite one-night stand deal breaker,” Kyle agreed, solemnly. 

“Damn straight, it is,” Cartman replied, finishing the rest of his beer. Kyle lost count of how many he’d had. 

Just then Craig sauntered over, shit-eating grin on his face. He retrieved his coat and said, “I shall be escorting my lovely lady friend home.” 

“We’re terribly jealous, Craig.” Cartman deadpanned. “Really, we wish we were going to be eating some of that pussy.” 

“Jesus, Cartman!” Kyle exclaimed. 

Cartman folded his arms across his chest. “See, now you’ve gone and offended Kyle. Really, Craig, how can you suck so hard?” 

Craig was still grinning. “Not even you could ruin my good mood. See you at work tomorrow, partner.” 

“Brush your fucking teeth!” Cartman called after him. Craig raised his middle finger in salute and walked out with the redhead. 

Suddenly left alone, Kyle felt anxious. He looked at the time and it was almost 11p.m. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments before Cartman stood up. “I’m kinda beat. Gonna go settle the tab.” 

“Wait, here,” Kyle said, reaching into his wallet. 

“Please, save your money, poor boy,” Cartman said, already walking away. 

Kyle found himself smiling. They grabbed their coats and made their way to the parking lot. “Where you parked?” Cartman said. 

“Not, I walked.”

Cartman looked at him like he was nuts. “Why? It’s fucking freezing.” 

Kyle shrugged, feeling the chill run through him now that Cartman mentioned it. “Wasn’t bad before.” 

“Whatever, I’m right over here. Get in.” 

Kyle put his hand over Cartman’s as he made to open the door. “Maybe I should drive?” 

Cartman turned around and Kyle realized how close they were, and that Cartman’s back was to the car. “Please, Jew. That’s the upside of being big-boned; I’m barely even buzzed.” 

“Oh,” Kyle said, trying not to think of how he was practically pressed up against Cartman’s body. He felt the air rush out of his lungs and all the blood rush to his groin. 

He watched Cartman’s eyes grow dark again, watched him lick his lips. Kyle’s hand was still over Cartman’s and as he tried to move it, Cartman caught him and spun him around so he was pressed into the side of the car. 

Kyle swallowed down a gasp as Cartman pressed fully against him, the softness of his body not something he was used to – but there was definitely something firm that was grinding into him and Kyle felt his head swim with the knowledge of Cartman hard against his thigh. 

Cartman ran a hand through Kyle’s hair before gripping roughly, forcing their eyes to meet. “I guess with you I wouldn’t have to worry about that _Terrance and Philip_ thing.” 

Kyle refused to give into the urge to drag his leg along Cartman’s thigh. Instead, he held his gaze and said, “I guess you wouldn’t.” 

Cartman leaned in close and ran his tongue along the shell of Kyle’s ear, causing him to shiver. “And what would you say if I wanted to see how you looked spread out on my bedsheets?” 

Kyle gasped as Cartman bit down on his earlobe. “I’d say… you need a new line.” 

Cartman dragged his fingernails down Kyle’s neck, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “Pretend it’s new to you,” he whispered, voice smooth like velvet in a way Kyle’s never heard before, breath hot and moist against his ear. Kyle was harder than he’d been in months and he was barely touched. He gave into temptation and shamelessly rubbed himself against Cartman’s huge thigh, letting him feel his arousal. 

Cartman let out a choked-off moan that made Kyle press even harder against him. 

Cartman’s tongue began to trace feathery patterns on his neck, a mere tease. Kyle gave up; he had a good run. “Yeah, let’s… let’s go to your place.” 

“Fuck, yeah,” Cartman breathed, grinding into him once more, lining up their groins. Kyle clutched at his back, fingers digging into soft flesh through the fabric before they both pulled away and adjusted themselves. 

As they got into the car, Kyle realized they hadn’t even kissed yet. 

_____________________________

As soon as the car started, Cartman’s stereo blasted out rap music and Kyle once again was forced to revise his assessment to “some things never change.” Except they were changing because he was sitting in a car with his childhood enemy, on their way to get _naked_ together. Kyle felt a dizzy rush to the head, the entire evening a blend of surrealism. 

They didn’t speak; the music loud and obnoxious around them. It was hardly mood-setting as Kyle listened to someone sing about bitches and hoes, but there was a live current of palpable want in the air, and Kyle swallowed around the thickness of it. 

When they pulled to a stop at a light, Cartman placed his hand high on Kyle’s thigh, dragging it down roughly to his knee cap and up again. Kyle’s fingers clenched in a fist so as not to cover Cartman’s hand and move it exactly where he wanted it. He slouched down slightly in the seat so that Cartman’s fingers were brushing the crease of his groin, inches from his cock. 

He heard Cartman suck in a sharp breath as the song switched from one to the next. His fingers tapped on the steering wheel impatiently. 

“Could this fucking light be any longer,” he grunted. Kyle felt pleased that Cartman was as on edge as he was, maybe more so. 

“Don’t you have a siren?” Kyle asked, happy his voice didn’t break. 

Cartman looked at him with wide eyes. “My, my, is Mr. Kyle Broflovski asking me to break the law?”

Kyle shook his head, even though the irrational part of his mind wanted nothing else. “No, I’m just…” 

“Good, because I was about to anyway,” Cartman said happily before flipping on a switch that let off a loud, shrilly sound. 

“Oh my God, Cartman, seriously,” Kyle gasped as they took off in a race down the street. 

He cackled loudly. “Oh, please, you love it.” 

He held on for his life as Cartman weaved between cars and blew light after light. “I really don’t, asshole!” 

“Then you shouldn’t have suggested it!” Cartman’s hand found his way back to Kyle’s thigh again and he couldn’t help but arch into the touch as they sped along the highway. He let loose a hysterical laugh and pretty soon found he couldn’t stop. Cartman joined him, the sound of their laughter flooding the car, a heady rush of excitement and arousal. By the time they made it to Cartman’s place, Kyle was half-crazed by Cartman’s teasing touches to his thigh and a little dizzy from the mixture of alcohol and speed in which they were going. 

Now stopped, Kyle took a gulping breath and looked at Cartman, who was grinning evilly, hand squeezing Kyle’s leg hard before slipping away. “You’re fucking psychotic, you know that?” 

“Yeah, well, you’re about to fuck a psycho. What does that make you?” 

Kyle pretended to give it serious thought before cracking a grin. “Certifiable?” 

“Among other things,” Cartman replied, before unlocking the doors. “Now move your ass.” 

Cartman bounded out of the car while Kyle hesitated, fingers on the door handle. He couldn’t chalk this up to the heat of the moment any longer. This wasn’t a quick make-out session up against a car in a parking lot; this was a deliberate hook-up. He looked out the driver’s side door to see the lower half of Cartman’s body shuffling from side to side. It was probably just from the cold but the action was vulnerable off to make him exit the car, hesitation forgotten. 

He followed Cartman up the walkway to the steps that led to the front door. Inside there were more steps and doors off to the side. “Apartment complex,” Cartman explained. Kyle followed him up the stairs and barely had the chance to register that they were alone inside Cartman’s place before he was shoved up against the door. 

It was less a meeting of mouths and more a collision; fast and hard like two objects with nowhere to go but into one another. Cartman’s lips were surprisingly soft, yet the kiss anything but. He tasted like beer, burgers and fries but there was a unique flavor beneath it all. Kyle’s entire body shook with the force of the kiss to the point where he felt it in his toes; he always thought that was some stupid cliché. He let out an embarrassing groan as Cartman sucked his lower lip between his teeth, pulling hard before diving back in, his hands fisted in Kyle’s hair as his tongue pushed at Kyle’s mouth, pointed and hard, demanding entrance until Kyle could do nothing but gasp and let him in. 

Kyle moaned into the kiss, dizzy with lust and achingly hard to the point where he was embarrassed. Cartman didn’t seem to mind, just kissed him harder, faster, brushing their tongues together against and again, deepening the kiss as he pressed Kyle harder into the door. 

He brought his hands up to Kyle’s face, thumbs pressing firm against his jaw. 

“Your hands are cold,” Kyle said, gasping into his mouth. 

Cartman pulled back and planted nipping, teasing kisses against Kyle’s lips and chin. “I’ll warm them up,” he whispered, sliding his hands beneath Kyle’s jacket and shirt, pressing cold palms to overheated skin 

“Bastard,” Kyle breathed against Cartman’s mouth, flicking his tongue against his upper lip. 

Cartman pushed Kyle harder into the wall, kicking his legs apart with one large thigh and slipping between them as his hands curved around Kyle’s waist, raising goosebumps on Kyle’s flesh. Kyle moaned and dragged his hands up and down Cartman’s back, digging his fingernails into his shoulders as their cocks touched through far too much fabric. 

“Still a bastard?” Cartman taunted against Kyle’s lips, moving against him in a maddeningly slow pace. 

“Always,” Kyle breathed, and then yelped as Cartman roughly lifted his leg and wrapped it around his waist, rocking their bodies together harder, tighter, faster. Kyle’s head fell back, his fingers losing their grip on Cartman’s shoulders as he shook with need. 

Cartman’s mouth was on his neck in a second, and that was Kyle’s weak spot, a ridiculously erogenous zone. He tried to stifle down the loud moans that wanted to escape. Cartman’s fingers tightened near Kyle’s ribcage, nails scraping while he sucked hard on Kyle’s neck. 

“Oh fuck,” Kyle breathed, unable to stop the words. He raised his hands to Cartman’s hair and pushed him in closer. 

“Like that?” Cartman’s voice sounded breathless and odd, as if he actually cared about the answer. 

“Don’t stop,” Kyle said in response, figuring it was as much an admission as anything. 

Cartman dragged his teeth over Kyle’s Adam’s apple, closing his lips around it and sucking his way down to the base of his neck, ridding Kyle of his jacket in the process and pushing down the fabric of the shirt from the inside where his hands were still trapped. 

“You fucking love this, don’t you, Jew? Want me to mark you? Bruise you?” He punctuated his words with long hard suck to the side of Kyle’s neck, enough to break the skin. Kyle cried out, pulling Cartman close again by his hair and rubbing shamelessly against him, the heat of their erections intoxicating. 

“How thin are these walls?” Kyle somehow found the capability to ask. 

Cartman laughed against him. “What do you care? You’re a visitor round these parts. Now stop fucking thinking,” he commanded, voice rough, before sliding a hand out from under Kyle’s shirt and between their bodies, cupping Kyle’s dick and squeezing hard. 

“Oh my God.” Kyle didn’t even recognize his own voice. His throat felt raw and scratchy, his lips and neck bruised, his hair mussed. All he knew was Cartman’s hand was fucking huge, just like everything about him, and he wanted to feel it again, wanted to feel everything. 

Cartman palmed him through his jeans, roughly, while Kyle arched against him, his hand tightening around the back of Cartman’s neck. Their lips met again, open-mouthed and dirty. Cartman eased back so it was just his tongue flickering at Kyle’s mouth. Kyle groaned loudly and felt his body shudder, touching their tongues together and wanting more, needing it. 

Cartman pushed Kyle’s leg down from his waist and back onto the floor. His hands came to Kyle’s jacket and shucked it off in one swift movement. Kyle felt crazed as he lifted his own shirt off next and watched Cartman follow suit, first his corduroy jacket, then his polo. 

When they came back together it was skin on skin and Kyle took a deep breath, kissing his way along Cartman’s neck. 

Cartman’s hands were strong at the small of his back. Their cocks pressed together, rough and uncomfortable through the denim but Kyle didn’t care, he just wanted to be closer. 

“You’re fucking shaking,” Cartman said against his ear before tugging the lobe it roughly between his teeth. “Jesus, how long has it been?” 

Kyle dug his fingernails into Cartman’s side, not used to feeling flesh that wasn’t hard and firm. For some reason, it turned him on even more. 

“Few months,” he replied, letting his teeth graze against Cartman’s neck, tasting salty skin and cologne. It was longer than that, but Cartman didn’t need to know. 

Cartman made a feral sound and ducked his head, sucking a hard bruise onto Kyle’s collarbone. “How long since you jerked off?” 

Kyle could hardly breathe, could hardly think. He drifted his hands down Cartman’s back, slipping beneath the waistband of his jeans, finding hot skin. “Few days.” 

“Did you think of me?’ Cartman asked, voice silky smooth as his tongue moved down to Kyle’s nipple, taking one into his mouth and causing him to arch and cry out. 

“Why would I...” he started and then broke off with a low gasp as Cartman pinched his right nipple hard while rolling the left one between his teeth as he hardened beneath his tongue. 

“I’ve been jacking to you nonstop since I saw you,” Cartman mumbled around his mouthful. 

Kyle’s head fell back against the door with a thud. “God. Yeah, I. Yeah.” 

He could feel Cartman’s grin against his skin. Then Cartman’s hands were sure and insistent at the front of his jeans. “Think about me sucking you?” he asked roughly, his tongue sliding ever so slowly down the center of Kyle’s chest, trailing kisses over his ribcage and belly. “Think about me on my knees?” 

Kyle’s hands found Cartman’s hair, tightening and pushing downward until Cartman fell to his knees and popped open the button of his jeans, his mouth making the skin over Kyle’s stomach quiver. “Fucking yes. Do it,” he panted, hoping it didn’t sound like a plea. 

“Say please,” Cartman taunted, fingers slowly working down his zipper while sharp teeth bit at Kyle’s torso. 

Kyle should have known the bastard wouldn’t make it easy. 

“Please,” he said, stroking his nails over Cartman’s scalp. “Suck me,” he added for good measure, voice low and sultry. 

Cartman let out a fierce growl and tugged down his jeans, taking Kyle out of his boxers in one quick movement. Before Kyle could suck in a breath, Cartman’s lips were wrapped around him, taking him all the way down. Kyle could have sworn he saw stars. He was a decent size, not huge, but Cartman was taking all of him like it was the easiest thing in the world and Kyle didn’t think a mouth had ever felt that good on his cock. 

Cartman’s fingers were strong on his hips and he urged Kyle closer. Kyle started thrusting into the heat of his mouth, crying out to God and Jesus and who the fuck knows while his hands clenched in Cartman’s hair. Cartman pulled back, suckling the head, licking at the underside, flicking his tongue over the hard veins before taking Kyle in again, fast and deep. Kyle could come like this, could come any second, but then Cartman was up and off him, back on his feet and kissing Kyle with a fierceness that made his eyes burn. 

“Come on,” he breathed, and Kyle stepped out of his pants and stumbled through the living room and into a doorway he assumed was the bedroom. He was flat on his back in an instant as Cartman rid himself of his jeans and climbed on top of him. 

“Your mouth. Gimme your mouth,” Cartman panted against his lips, rolling Kyle so he was on top. Kyle slid down his body, kissing over his broad chest, letting his hands run over the soft, yielding flesh, gripping a little. 

“Don’t, just.” Cartman shook his head. “Just fucking suck me, Jew,” he said, eyes closed, face red, lips parted. The bedside light was on but the rest of the room was dark. He shook his head and mouthed his way over Cartman’s nipples, sucking each of them into his mouth, scraping his nails against his love-handles. Kyle figured he owed him something, something to get rid of the pinched look on his face. 

“So fucking turned on,” he mumbled against Cartman’s stomach, punctuating the words with nibbling bites to his flesh. 

He felt Cartman visibly relax beneath his mouth, stomach muscles softening, the tension seeping out of him. Kyle slid between his legs, onto his knees, and licked at his briefs through the fabric. He heard a sharp intake of breath and did it again, moving lower to mouth his balls. 

He heard Cartman snicker and could only imagine what was going through his head. He licked a slow line up the length of his still covered cock, already impressed by the size. He took him out, feeling the weight of him in his hand, jerking Cartman slightly before closing his mouth over the head. He heard Cartman sigh and felt fingers tangle in his hair. 

“God, yeah. Suck me, Jew. Fucking cocksucker.” 

Kyle moaned around him, the words irrationally turning him on. He took him down halfway, lips tight and stretched, sucking in a steady rhythm until Cartman was moaning and pulling him up by his shoulders. Kyle fell onto him, felt Cartman’s leg come up to wrap around his hip. They kissed wetly, crazily, like they’d die without it before Cartman flipped him over and brought their cocks together once more. They thrust together, a mixture of flesh and fabric. Cartman panted harshly into Kyle’s throat and Kyle ran sweaty hands up and down his back and over his ass. 

“Gonna make you come,” Cartman said, and it sounded like a promise. 

Kyle arched his neck more. “Fuck yes,” he moaned as Cartman didn’t stop sucking or licking him, bruising his skin everywhere he could reach and it just made Kyle harder; every touch to his neck was a jolt to his cock. 

“Jesus Christ,” Cartman breathed, their rhythm stuttering. Kyle wrapped his legs around Cartman’s thighs and arched the small of his back. “Oh fuck,” he said and then reached down to take both of their cocks in his hand. 

“So close,” Kyle gasped, sweat in his eyes, in his hair. 

Cartman’s tongue was wet and broad as it eased up his throat, lips closing over his chin. Cartman gripped them tighter, swiping pre-come over their cocks, his hips thrusting down as Kyle’s thrust up.

“Come for me,” Cartman ordered against his lips. 

Kyle felt his thighs tense and his balls rise. He inched his tongue out and Cartman found it, licking lewdly, their mouths apart, tongues only touching as Kyle came hard into his hand. Cartman sucked on his tongue, swallowed Kyle’s moans and his own as Kyle felt him tense and come as well, their cocks pulsing together while Cartman stroked them through it. 

Cartman stroked them until they both couldn’t stand it anymore, then flopped down beside him, panting like a racehorse. Kyle was in no better shape, licking at his bruised lips, hair sticking to his forehead. He watched, appalled, as Cartman wiped his hand on his own briefs and then threw them onto the floor. 

“That’s fucking gross,” Kyle choked out, voice scratchy. 

Cartman laughed, but Kyle noticed with pride that it was unsteady. “That’s all you can say?” 

Kyle brushed his own hair off his forehead and cleared his throat. “Yeah, right now.” 

“That’s because you just blew a load that would make a porn star jealous. You’re lucky I have big hands.” 

Kyle felt his mouth stretch into a grin. “Bastard.” 

They lay side by side in silence, the sound of their breathing echoing in the air. Kyle wasn’t sure what to say after having pretty fantastic sex with someone who was your childhood rival. He was about to say that he should probably get going, when Cartman shifted beside him. 

“So I’m going to order a pizza. Whattdya say?” 

Kyle looked at him and blinked. “Seriously?” 

“Yes, seriously, you wore me out. I’m famished.” 

“I was probably gonna head out…” 

Cartman waved a hand and reached for a landline phone by the bed. “Well stay or don’t stay, I’m still ordering fucking Dominos and I’ll eat the whole thing by myself if I have to. It’ll be _such_ a chore.” 

Kyle worried his lip between his teeth. “Okay, uh. I guess I could stay for a bit.” 

“You’d better like sausage,” Cartman said and then proceeded to crack up at his own pun. 

They slipped under the blankets, Cartman naked and Kyle still in his boxers, because it was December after all and fucking freezing. Cartman finished ordering, then turned on the TV and threw the remote at Kyle. “I have Pandora on my TV, if you’re so inclined.” 

“Fancy.” 

“Fuck you. Not like you’d like any of my stations anyway.” 

Kyle punched a few buttons and pulled it up. “Kanye, Eminem, Jay Z… Seriously, Cartman, don’t all these give you the same songs?” 

“Hey! These artists represent different elements of rap,” he explained, kicking at Kyle’s ankle beneath the covers. 

Kyle kicked back. “You’re telling me you honestly don’t get the same songs on these stations?” He leveled Cartman with an incredulous stare. 

Cartman paused. “Look... just. Dammit, Kyle, pick a station, I’m not on my ‘A’ game after orgasms!” 

Kyle laughed triumphantly then scrolled down. “Madonna?’ he questioned, raising an eyebrow at Cartman. 

“It’s a gay rite of passage, Jew. Like _Schindler’s List_ for you.” 

Kyle flipped him off and chose the station. They both laughed as “Like a Virgin” came on as the first song. 

Cartman shuffled around, leaning over to the bedside table. “Do you smoke?” 

“No, dude. Cigarettes are fucking disgusting.” 

He watched Cartman dig through the drawer, eyes locked on his pale skin and the stark contrast of red marks on his shoulders from Kyle’s hands. “Heh, I wasn’t talking about cigarettes.” 

Kyle’s eyes widened as Cartman settled back down against the pillows and dropped a grinder, plastic bag, and bowl onto the blanket. 

“You’re a fucking detective, dude!” 

He watched as Cartman smirked before opening the bag and pulling out a few buds, dropping them into the grinder. “And you’d be surprised how easy it is for a detective to score pot.”  
`  
“You’re unbelievable!” Kyle scoffed. 

Cartman packed the bowl and reached to the table for his lighter. “You cannot possible still have sand in your vagina after you came that hard,” Cartman said calmly before lighting up. 

“Oh my God,” Kyle groaned, throwing a hand over his eyes. 

He heard Cartman exhale sharply. When he spoke, his voice was thick with smoke. The smell of it assaulted Kyle’s nostrils. “Christ, Kyle, calm the fuck down and take a hit.” 

Kyle looked at Cartman and then the bowl he was offering. “God, alright.” He took it and…stared. “I’ve never...” 

“Oh my God, seriously?”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Please, I’m friends with Kenny McCormick, remember? I’ve just never used a bowl. Kenny always used a bong and even then, he did it for me.”

Cartman snorted. “Fucking prima donna. Alright, ready?” He placed it at Kyle’s lips, and then lit it. “Okay, suck in.” Kyle did, feeling the heat of the smoke in his mouth. “Okay, now hold it, hold it,” Cartman said, taking the bowl away. “Now blow out, slowly.” 

Kyle obeyed, choking hard. It had been a while. Cartman laughed, slapping his naked back. 

“Fucking bastard,” Kyle said when he could breathe. 

Cartman shook his head. “Here, just.” Cartman took another hit then loomed over Kyle, shifting so they were lying down. He pressed his lips to Kyle’s and slowly breathed out. Kyle felt the smoke at his lips, filtering through. He drew in a breath, letting it swirl around, before breathing out against Cartman, smoke leaving through their not quite sealed lips. Instead of pulling back, Cartman closed the distance, sliding his tongue between Kyle’s lips and behind his teeth. Kyle could only taste the pot. His brain felt fuzzy and light. He brought his hand up to squeeze Cartman’s shoulder, kissing back hard, their tongues brushing together. 

Cartman pulled back to look at him, their faces still close. His eyes were dark and red, pupils wide and unfocused. “Christ, come here,” he growled, before pressing Kyle further into the pillows and mattress, kissing him deeply. Kyle groaned into his mouth and kissed back desperately. Before he knew it they were making out with purpose, Cartman’s hands dipping below the blankets to stroke Kyle’s chest, his flank, his collarbone. 

Kyle was just about to surge his hips up and press their groins together when a sound broke through the haze of lust. 

“What the fuck?” Cartman pulled away angrily at the buzzing noise. 

“Think... that’s the pizza,” Kyle panted, licking at his swollen lips. 

Cartman’s eyes flared as he traced the movement. “Yes, I realize that.” 

“You were the one who wanted to order it,” Kyle pointed out. 

“God, okay, shut up,” he grumbled before clamoring out of bed and bending over grab his wallet from his jeans, giving Kyle a nice view of his ass. He threw on a pair of boxers that were sitting on his dresser. 

“Hold your fucking horses, douche!” Cartman yelled from the hallway. 

Kyle took the moment to look around the bedroom. It wasn’t terribly large. There was the flatscreen TV sitting on top of the dresser. Two bedside tables on either side and a rather large closet off to the right. Kyle smirked at the _Terrance and Philip_ poster on one of the walls and nodded in appreciation at the Mr. Pink _Reservoir Dogs_ poster; it was aptly fitting for Cartman. 

Cartman returned with the pizza, plopping down onto the bed and placing the box between them. Kyle felt loose and relaxed. He didn’t think he was all that high, and even though he wanted to complain about the lack of napkins and plates, he was feeling too good to care. They ate, talking (arguing) about music. Cartman pontificated on all the ways Kanye was a genius while Kyle contended he was a pompous, narcissistic egomaniac. 

They found a few songs/artists to agree upon on the Madonna station, and then discussed Lady Gaga’s merits, or lack thereof. 

When the pizza had been finished and the N’Sync station was getting its Britney on, Kyle looked at the clock to see it was well after 1 a.m. “Shit, I should get going. We both have work in the morning.” 

Cartman rolled his head back onto the pillow and looked at the time. “Yeah, you Jews need your beauty sleep.” 

“You’re hilarious. What’s Jimmy doing these days? Maybe he needs an opening act.” 

Cartman stretched his arms over his head, yawning. Kyle tried to not let his eyes slide over his bare chest. “I think he got himself a wife.” 

“Huh. No shit.” Kyle got off the bed and started the shameful look around for his clothes. 

“They’re mostly near the door,” Cartman said dryly, not moving. 

Kyle flushed bright red and went to retrieve them. After all items had been accounted for and Kyle was fully dressed, he turned to Cartman, suddenly feeling awkward. “So, uh. Did you want my number?” 

Cartman shrugged one shoulder. “Sure.” 

“Give me your phone,” Kyle said, suddenly wanting to get the hell out as fast as he could. 

Cartman groaned as he got up, arching his back to crack it before walking to his jeans that were crumpled on the floor. Kyle was entering the numbers as Cartman said, “Guess gimme yours, too.” 

Kyle reached into his pocket and took out his phone. They stood their, entering the contacts in silence before swapping back. 

“Don’t get jumped on the walk home. That’d be extra work for me,” Cartman said. 

Kyle rolled his eyes and zipped up his jacket. “I’m sure I’ll manage.” 

Cartman shifted to his left foot. “Do I need to get dressed and protect your virtue?” He wasn’t looking at Kyle. It was probably the closest to an offer for a ride home that he’d receive. 

A muscle in Kyle’s jaw twitched. “You’re the one it needs protecting from, so no thanks.” 

Cartman raised his eyes, mouth quirking into a smile. “Suit yourself.” 

Kyle turned to exit the bedroom as Cartman followed. When he got to the front door, Cartman spun him around and slammed him against it. Kyle was mid-gasp as Cartman’s lips met his, brutal and unyielding. They groped at one another’s upper backs, hands sliding down to cup ass cheeks, breathing loud and harsh as their faces pressed together. 

Cartman pulled back, his hand firm on Kyle’s jaw and placed a final nipping kiss to his lips. “See you, Jewboy.” His voice was low and rough, and the word sounded almost like an endearment. 

Kyle swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he breathed shakily, and left before he did something crazy like drop to his knees and blow him. 

Kyle knew the part of town Cartman lived in well. It was only about ten minutes further than his walk home from the pub. He replayed the sex in his mind, vivid Technicolor behind his eyelids. By the time he reached his house, he was fully hard. He tiptoed inside and up to his room and only just closed the door before shoving a hand into his jeans and jerking himself off in short, rough strokes, biting his lip as he remembered the feel of Cartman’s tongue, his hands, his body. He came with his back against the door and his fist in his mouth, panting and shaking. 

He threw off his clothes, put on a clean pair of boxers and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. 

________________________

 

The next morning Kyle stayed in his room until his parents left for work. He really didn’t feel like putting on a turtleneck first thing in the morning and scarves would be too suspicious. He checked some of his favorite film websites, triple-checked his email, and then got ready for work. He wore as high a collar as he could underneath his uniformed shirt. If anyone noticed, they thankfully didn’t say anything. 

The twelve O’clock hour came and went, and Kyle hated to admit it pissed him off a little that Cartman didn’t stop by. “Fucking weak,” he mumbled to himself. 

“I know, right, man? I just want it to be over already,” Dwayne said next to him, displaying the new arrivals behind the cash register. 

“No, I didn’t mean...” Kyle shook his head, exasperated. “Nevermind.” 

Kyle’s shift ended at 4p.m. He changed his shirt in the bathroom, pulling out the black scarf from his messenger bag and wrapping it tight around his neck. He pulled on a black ski cap to match, red strands of hair sticking out from the sides of it. He didn’t feel like going home and instead went to the local mall, walking around and finding nothing at all of interest. He missed Denver with a passion. 

His phone buzzed as he was getting back into his car and the screen read _1 new message from Cartman_. Kyle stared for a moment before clicking the button to open. 

**Fucking stuck in this hell hole, been living on twix bars all day. Boy do I wish SOMEONE would bring me food as I’m a growing, hungry boy.**

Kyle laughed in spite of himself. **Isn’t that what you have Craig for? Also, you’re not growing.**

**I’m growing right now thinking of ur ass and all the things I want to do to it**

Kyle felt the blood rush simultaneously to his face and cock. 

**You're a sick fuck, Cartman. Where is Craig anyway?**

**Buried in paperwork a mile high. This place is a clusterfuck. Remind me why I don’t work for the Denver PD?**

Kyle secretly loved the ease in which Cartman was conversing; as if they hadn’t only just seen each other for the first time in years a few weeks ago and had one night of fantastic sex under their belts. 

**Uh, they have moral standards?** Kyle typed back. 

**oh, yes, right. This is why sp and I blend so well**

Kyle didn’t respond back right away and another text arrived. 

**Gee, my stomach is growling so loudly I’m pissing off the entire squad room**

**Don’t you piss them off on a regular basis?**

**That may be true but it’s hardly the point and I’d never outright admit it anyway, Jewfucker.**

Kyle gave up. At this rate, Cartman would be bugging him all fucking night. **1) don’t fucking call me that, you fucking dickwad. 2) IF I were to get you something, would KFC suffice?**

Cartman responded a few seconds later. **I’ll ignore the first part because my mouth is now watering . Do you even need to ask?**

An evil thought came to Kyle’s mind. **A garden salad from Wendy’s it is, then** and promptly turned off his phone. 

He didn’t turn it on again until he was sitting in the Park County PD parking lot. There were five new messages. 

**Haha, pulling a Craig on me, huh? Not going to work.**

The next was listed as coming five minutes later. **Seriously, Jew, I need some fucking protein in my life**

Ten minutes later. **Alright, this isn’t fucking funny. If I see lettuce I may have to shoot first and ask questions later.**

One minute after that. **You do realize I carry a gun, yes?**

Four minutes. **I hate you, Kyle.**

Kyle grinned, grabbed the food, and exited the car. When he walked into the squad room he spotted Cartman slouched in a chair at a desk, looking at his phone. He looked up at that exact moment and Kyle tried but failed to read the expression on his face.  
He got up and walked toward him while Kyle held the bag he was carrying behind his back. 

“I was just about to put out an APB for a twenty-something male red-haired Jew carrying a salad.” 

Kyle tried not to think about the bruises on his neck that were hidden by the scarf he was wearing, tried not to let his eyes rack up and down Cartman’s body. He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, they never would have found me as you were off by one vital detail,” he said dryly before producing the bag of KFC. 

Cartman’s eyes danced as he reached for the bag. “If there are vegetables of any kind in here I’m placing you under arrest.” 

Kyle held up his hands. “Nothing but clogged arteries all the way.” 

Cartman nodded, serious. “Just how I like it.” 

Kyle looked around briefly, not recognizing all of the faces but remembering the décor. “This place looks exactly the same.” 

Cartman rolled his eyes. “That’s because it is.” 

Kyle looked at him again and shoved his hands in his pockets. With Cartman standing straight and tall the way he was, Kyle was once again reminded of their difference in height by a few inches. He was wearing a crisp white shirt that was rolled up at the elbows and those suspenders again that made him look like something out of a film noir. His hair was parted neatly to the right and slick with styling gel. Kyle wanted to mess him up. 

Cartman ran his tongue slowly over his bottom lip as if he knew what Kyle was thinking. “Nice scarf,” he whispered, voice a low taunt, as he fingered the tip of it. 

Kyle flushed. “Fuck you,” he hissed. “I look like a leaper under this thanks to you.” 

Cartman’s eyes darkened, and he tugged on Kyle’s scarf, inching in a hair closer but not too much to be suspicious. “Please, bitch, you couldn’t get enough.” 

Before Kyle could respond, he recognized Officer Barbrady making his way toward them. He looked exactly the same, just greyer. 

“Is that Kyle Broflovski?” he asked, loudly. 

 

Kyle ignored Cartman’s groan and stepped away, turning toward the man. He shook Barbrady’s hand. “It is. How have you been, Officer?” 

“Not bad, not bad! My, you look exactly the same.” 

Cartman snorted. “Yeah, seen one Jew you’ve seen them all.”

Kyle glared at him. 

“You were always such a good kid, Kyle. You and that Stan fella. Not like this one over here,” he said, jerking his finger at Cartman. 

Kyle watched something flicker in Cartman’s eyes at Stan’s name but he didn’t have time to focus on it as Barbrady was still talking. “How is he doing, anyway? You still see him?”

Kyle hated the “catching up” thing when people asked seemingly innocent questions and couldn’t possibly realize the weight of them. “Uh, yeah. He’s doing good, he lives in Denver. I’m just… back around here temporarily.” 

Cartman cleared his throat loudly. “Barbrady, don’t you have to go get a cat out of a tree or something?” 

Barbrady gave him look before turning back to Kyle. “I do need to be going, actually. It’s crazy here today, as you can see. A pleasure to see you, Kyle.” 

They shook hands again. “You too, Officer.” 

When they were alone again, Kyle felt the awkwardness settle in for the first time since last night. 

“So,” Kyle started and then nearly jumped out of his skin. 

“Cartman! I need the fucking write-up on that robbery. STAT!” 

Kyle watched the tips of Cartman’s ears go red as he visibly contained his composure.

Cartman turned his head. “I thought Craig was working on that, Chief.” 

“No, he’s working on expense reports. _You_ are to have this to me in fifteen, tops.” 

Cartman raised a hand to the back of his neck, squeezing. Kyle’s eyes followed the movement, wanting to place his mouth at the spot. “Alright, Jesus.” 

He turned back to Kyle. “The never-ending excitement of the PCPD.” 

Kyle gave him a half-hearted grin. “I’ll be going, then. After all the shit you put me through, don’t forget to eat that,” Kyle said, nodding at the food.

“Please, Jew, I can never forget about KFC.” 

Kyle nodded. “See ya.” 

Cartman was already walking back to his desk, his hand waving absently behind him. 

An hour after Kyle had left the station, finished eating dinner with his parents, and was in his room angrily staring at CareerBuilder.com, his phone buzzed. It was from Cartman. 

**So, I was thinking I get outta here at 9**

Kyle felt a surge of want pool in his groin, and tried to shake it off. **You’re thinking? Should I alert the media?**

The response was instantaneous. **Sure and while ur at it remind them how much I hate Jews**

Kyle shook his head, completely unsurprised. **I think everyone is well aware.**

**You can never be 2 sure. ANYWAY Jew, I think u should come over. And I think u should bring me krispy kreme.**

Kyle felt his cock twitch violently at the thought of being in Cartman’s house again, his bed. Part of that sentence pissed him off though. **I’m not your fucking delivery boy.**

**Gee, that’s a shame, Kyle, because see, if you brought me krispy kreme I was going to spread you out on my bed and fuck you till you scream.**

Kyle swallowed hard, the words lighting a fire inside him. He wasn’t that easy, though. **Is that supposed to be a limerick?**

**U can call it whatever the fuck you want but don’t pretend you’re not dying for my dick... you want it everywhere, don’t you? Want me to slide my cock into your hot mouth, your tight little ass**

Kyle’s felt like the wind was knocked out of him. He typed with shaky fingers. **What kind of donuts did you want?**

**Ur such an easy slut, aren’t u? I’m getting hard at work rn thinking of what I’m gunna do 2 u. chocolate, original, anything.**

Kyle sucked in a gulping breath and gripped the phone tightly. **I’ll be there at 9:30**

Kyle called Cartman for his address around nine. He knew the general vicinity but would hardly be able to pick out the house. Plus he needed the apartment number. Just the sound of his voice was enough to get him going. He’d never felt this way before, not even as a teenager. His parents were on the couch watching TV as he headed down the stairs. 

“Going out again?” his dad asked, and it immediately brought back memories of his high school days when he’d sit out in the park with Stan until all hours and wish that something would happen, other than him talking about Wendy. 

“Uh, yeah, just meeting someone from school.” 

“You know, Kyle, Hanukkah starts tomorrow. I hope you’ll join us at temple, and you know I’ll be making your favorite foods.” 

Kyle groaned inwardly. “Not sure about the first part, Mom.” 

He could see the disappointment in her eyes. “Oh, your first unemployment check came today. It’s on the kitchen table.”

Kyle winced. It may have been money but it was also a reminder of his life’s upheaval. “Thanks, I’ll cash it tomorrow. I may be late, so don’t wait up,” he called on his way to the door. 

Kyle headed to Krispy Kreme and bought six donuts. He felt utterly ridiculous standing at Cartman’s door with the box. He pressed the buzzer for 2A and exhaled. 

The main door opened automatically and he looked up the stairs to see Cartman holding the door to his apartment open. Kyle noticed he’d already changed, taking in in his dark blue jeans and black T-shirt which had a Nintendo cartridge on the front and the words “Blow Me.” 

Kyle climbed the stairs, looked pointedly at the shirt, and then at Cartman. “Seriously?” 

Cartman grinned. “I’m wearing a nostalgic t-shirt. If you choose to take it as a command, that’s on you.”

They were standing close in the doorway, the box of donuts between them. Kyle could smell Cartman’s breath, minty and clean. The thought of him brushing his teeth before Kyle came over was unexpected; considerate. 

Kyle looked up at him, took in his broad shoulders. He felt small around Cartman, a fact that thrilled him like he never imagined it would. “Do you want to eat your damn donuts?”

Cartman took the box from his hands and dropped it onto the floor, before pulling Kyle in by his jacket. “I’d rather eat you,” he whispered before claiming his lips. Kyle huffed out a laugh. 

“That was fucking horrible,” he said against Cartman’s mouth, sighing when sharp teeth bit into his bottom lip. “And uh, that’s disgusting, dropping the food on the floor like that.” 

Cartman pushed him back against the door, and stepped back, his arm straightened and holding him there. “Jew, if _I_ can stop thinking about food right now, you should be able to as well.” Then he rid Kyle of his jacket and kissed him again, with tongue this time, insistently parting his lips. Kyle grabbed the back of Cartman’s neck and pressed in harder. Before he knew it they were stumbling toward the bedroom, kissing and pawing as they went. Cartman pushed him through the doorway then slammed it shut behind them, turning Kyle into the wall between the door and the dresser and pinning his arms above his head as he thrust his hard cock against Kyle’s matching erection. 

Kyle gasped into the kisses, lewd and wet. He was unbearably turned on by Cartman’s large hands gripping both of his wrists and holding him there. 

“Tell me what you want,” Cartman asked breathily against the corner of his mouth. 

Kyle groaned at the feel of Cartman’s tongue flickering against him, off-center and making him unable to catch it. “You, Goddammit.”

He had his eyes closed but he could swear Cartman was grinning evilly as he replied, “But what do you want me to _do_ , Kyle?”

Kyle wished he could move his hands, touch Cartman, do something. Instead he just circled his hips into Cartman, delighting in the friction and the small sound it elicited before huffing out, “Fuck me, you bastard.” 

He shivered as Cartman licked slowly up the side of his jaw and to his ear. “Mmm, fuck you… with what? My finger?” 

His fingers tightened even more around Kyle’s wrists and he tugged sharply on his earlobe. “Jesus Christ, your _cock_ , asshole.” 

Cartman kissed him again, sucking on his tongue hard and causing Kyle to thrash against him, soft sounds spilling from his lips as he grew impossibly harder in his jeans. 

“You have to do better than that,” Cartman panted, voice unsteady, as he pulled away. “My ‘what’ cock? My… ‘small’ cock? My.. _flaccid_ cock?” 

Kyle felt the frustration rise in his chest and used the only leverage he could. He wrapped his leg around Cartman’s waist, shoes pressing against his ass as he pulled him in closer and whispered right against his ear. “Fuck me with your big, fat cock until I fucking scream.” 

Cartman let out a fierce sound and let go of Kyle’s hands only to reach down lightening fast and raise Kyle’s shirt up and off, tossing it aside. Then he placed both hands on Kyle’s ass and hoisted him up off the floor. Kyle’s other leg wrapped around Cartman’s waist and the world was a dizzy blur as he thrown onto the bed. He felt pre-come leak onto the inside of his boxers at the action, and found him self gulping in breath as he looked up at Cartman who was toeing off his shoes and socks and shucking off is own shirt. 

Kyle had the foresight to rid himself of his own shoes and socks before Cartman was on top of him, eyes dark and full of heat. Kyle’s legs immediately rose to Cartman’s waist again, his ankles locking over the small of his back and pulling him in tighter as they bit at one another’s lips, mouths frantic and starved like the world was ended. The friction in his jeans was almost too much, but as he started to adjust himself, sliding his hand between their bodies, Cartman caught it and pinned it down onto the bedsheets, his fingers open and splayed wide across Kyle’s palm. 

“You’re not gonna touch yourself,” he said, moving his mouth to suck hard at Kyle’s neck. “You’re gonna come just from my cock inside you.” He punctuated his words a slow roll of his hips, and Kyle nearly cried out from how good it felt, that insistent heat right up against his own throbbing erection. 

“You think you can make me do that?” Kyle challenged, needing to be contrary. 

Cartman pulled back, fingers now tightening on the wrist he was still holding, and stared at Kyle. “I think I’m going to destroy you.” 

Kyle’s dick twitched painfully at the words and he knew Cartman felt it from the fleeting smirk that grazed his lips. Cartman’s hair was no longer slick back, it was messy and sex-mussed and Kyle wanted to run his hands through it and undo him some more. Cartman sat back on his haunches, bracketing Kyle’s thighs and slowly undid the button and zipper on his jeans. Kyle bit his lip as Cartman’s hands brushed his cock in the process. Cartman eased the zipper down, then moved off the bed and yanked his jeans down hard, Kyle’s legs lifting off the bed to help. His underwear was next to go, and before he could take so much as take a breath, Cartman’s hands were on his left leg and flipping him over onto his stomach. Kyle’s cock pressed firmly into the mattress and he thrust against it, knowing full well he was getting pre-come on the comforter. 

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, unable to remember a time he felt raw, animalistic lust like this. 

He heard the clang of clothes hitting the floor and spread his legs instinctively right before the mattress dipped and Cartman covered his body with his own. The feel of him naked, skin to skin, his cock thick and hard between his thighs made Kyle ache with want. 

Cartman kissed the back of his neck and his shoulders, dragging his tongue along Kyle’s overheated skin, causing him to quiver. 

“You want it so bad, don’t you?” Cartman said, the words more of a taunt than a question. 

Kyle couldn’t dignify it with a response. He felt crazed and out of control in ways he never let himself get. He barely recognized the person who was insistently pressing back against Cartman’s body, relishing in the feel of the erection that was sliding against his balls. 

Kyle’s fingers tightened around the pillow his head was half pressed against, and bit back a moan as Cartman started mouthing his way down Kyle’s back, tonguing pointed and firm, moving down the vertebrae of his spinal column ever so slowly. The muscles in his back jumped under each touch. 

Kyle was lost in the sensation of a hot, slick mouth and hands running up and down his sides that he barely registered when that mouth dipped lower to the small of his back and swiping a teasing lick over the cleft of his ass. 

“What... what are you doing?” Kyle had never done this. Stan had wanted to but Kyle would always tell him no, it was disgusting and unsanitary. Stan would roll his eyes and say, affectionately, “You’re such a hygiene freak” and that would be that. Stan hadn’t pushed; that had been a large part of the problem with them, Kyle was beginning to realize. 

Cartman’s hands were huge on Kyle’s ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh while his tongue gave another lick before dipping into the crevice. “What the fuck do you think?” Cartman breathed against his skin. 

“No, I, uh, I don’t…” 

Cartman’s hands paused and Kyle was sure he’d sat up a little and was looking at him. “Jesus fucking Christ, Broflovski, did Marsh ever even _touch_ you?” 

He didn’t know what was worse, letting Cartman think Stan was the one with the apparent sexual hang-ups, or setting him straight. Before he could say anything else, those hands were parting his ass, and he shivered as Cartman’s breath fanned against his hole. 

“I want to do this, and you’re going to feel so fucking good,” Cartman breathed, and then that tongue was lapping at Kyle, pointed and firm and pushing against the ring of muscle. 

“Oh my God,” Kyle breathed, and felt his body relax around Cartman’s mouth even as his hands tightened into the bedsheets. Cartman fucked him with his tongue like it was best meal he’d ever eaten, his hands rhythmically squeezing as he pushed his face even deeper, fucking inside him and then pulling back to tease his hole. It was fast and hot, and Kyle couldn’t help but push back against him. 

“Oh God, yes,” he panted, full aware his was babbling but he couldn’t stop. “Cartman,” he said, and the name felt strange on his tongue. His entire life it had only been Stan – Stan’s name in bed, Stan’s name he would breathe out. This was odd yet not unpleasant, and he found himself saying it again. “Fuck me, God, Cartman, fuck me.” 

A strangled, muffled moan emerged from behind him. “Such a hot piece of ass,” Cartman said breathlessly, voice rough and raw as he nipped at Kyle’s cheek. “Taste fucking amazing, you know that, Jew?” 

Kyle laughed hysterically, because no, he didn’t. He always figured eating ass would… taste like ass but apparently Cartman couldn’t get enough of this. “Better than your donuts?” he managed. 

Cartman licked a long swipe up the cleft, then back down again, circling his hole. “You’d be shocked to discover the only thing I’ve thought about eating all day is your Jew ass. Now, stop fucking talking because I wanna make you scream.” He dove back in with fierce intensity, and Kyle did scream, and moan, and said things he wouldn’t even be able to remember minutes from now. His cock was leaking, his balls were taut and heavy, and he honestly thought he might be able to come from this. 

Then Cartman pulled away, and Kyle hated the sound of loss that came from his throat. 

Kyle turned his face to look at him for the first time since he’d climbed on the bed. Cartman was sitting back, his cock thick and red, jutting against his belly. Christ, he was big. Kyle’s mouth nearly watered at the sight – he didn’t think he ever cared much about size, but there was something about Cartman’s entire physic that did things to him. Cartman’s face was flushed, his chest heaving. Kyle watched as he ran a hand through his damp hair. 

“Okay. Okay, I need to fuck you.” He looked crazed and undone. Kyle was sure he looked the same way, and certainly felt as much. 

Kyle nodded and waited while Cartman dug through the nightstand drawer before pulling out a bottle of lube and a condom. 

A second later there was a slick finger at his hole, pushing inside and mixing with the slickness from Cartman’s tongue. The thought of that was still making Kyle hot all over. He wanted it again, realizing just how much he’d missed out on all these years because of his own inhibitions. 

Kyle clenched up at first, an immediate response, but then Cartman’s hand was pressing firmly down his back and he breathed out, letting his body relax. 

“Been a while,” he reiterated, even though he was pretty damn sure Cartman hadn’t forgotten. 

Cartman made an _mmm_ noise and pressed his finger in slowly. He was looser than he would have been after Cartman’s tongue and found himself easily taking one blunt finger. Cartman’s hands were coated generously, and on a second finger Kyle just felt pressure and fullness. Kyle rocked back against him, and Cartman moved to cover his body again, mouth hot against his ear. 

“Want more?” he asked, lowly. 

“Yeah,” Kyle said, tilting his face back so that Cartman’s lips slid over his jaw. 

Cartman gave it to him, and this time he felt the stretch and burn. Cartman worked him over with his fingers until Kyle was groaning into the pillow and saying, “Just do it, Christ, you bastard, fuck me.” 

Luckily, this time, Cartman required no further specification. He heard the tear of the wrapper, a snap of latex and then the wet head of Cartman’s up against him. He breathed out on the first push, hand grasping at the headboard above him. 

He let out a choked moan as Cartman inched his way in. He was bigger than Stan, thicker, and Kyle had never felt this stretched before. It was a heady mix of pleasure and pain and all he could do was squeeze his eyes shut and moan as sparks shot through his insides the deeper Cartman went. Cartman was grunting, choaked-off sounds that made Kyle crazy. 

“Fucking hell, you give new meaning to the phrase tight-ass Jew,” Cartman breathed when he was fully inside, not moving and braced over Kyle’s body. 

“Shut up,” Kyle panted, then rolled his hips, feeling Cartman’s cock jerk inside him. 

“Oh my God,” Cartman moaned, and then they were off and running, Cartman’s sweaty chest pressed up against his back, pressing him into the mattress, kissing his shoulder blades and biting as neck while he started a fast and frenzied rhythm, fucking Kyle hard, pulling halfway out each time before shoving back in. Kyle braced both hands on the headboard and pushed back against him, fucking himself even deeper. 

“Perfect little ass,” Cartman said against his throat. “Bet you never did it like this with the hippie, did you? Bet it was all candles and music and missionary position.” 

“Don’t,” Kyle breathed, strands of hair in his eyes as he titled his head and hips back against Cartman’s body. He wasn’t even sure what he was trying to say. 

Cartman pulled out nearly all the way and drove back in. Kyle slummed down against the mattress and let out a high moan. “Don’t stop,” he decided on. 

Cartman laughed. “I’d have to be insane.” He fucked Kyle harder, faster, circling his hips, his balls heavy where they slapped against Kyle’s ass. Kyle just arched and clawed at the headboard, losing himself in the feel of Cartman’s mouth on his neck, his cock dragging along his prostate with each thrust. 

“You gonna come, Jew? Come on, come from just me fucking you, my cock in your tight little ass as you squeeze around me, God, yeah, like that. Come for me, Kyle.” 

Maybe it was the insults, or the filth, or maybe it was just the sound of Cartman saying his name as he splayed his hand on Kyle’s chest and snapped his hips as he fucked him balls deep inside him. Either way, Kyle jerked in Cartman’s arms and came, a loud cry that was close to a shout forcing its way past his lips around a steady chant of “Oh fuck, oh God,” as his cock spurted against the sheets and his stomach. Cartman’s hand found his cock as he cried out, and Kyle shuddered as he caught some of the fluid and then spread it over Kyle’s chest. 

“Fuck yeah,” Cartman said, voice feral against Kyle’s throat before his own hips began jerking, rough and unsteady as he pushed Kyle face first down into the mattress and came with a loud groan. 

Cartman was dead weight on top of him and Kyle could barely breathe. He could still feel Cartman’s cock nudged deep inside him, twitching with aftershocks. Kyle pushed at him with his shoulder. 

Cartman groaned unhappily but rolled off to the side, slipping free from Kyle in the process. Kyle sighed at the loss, then flopped down on his back, trying to avoid the wetspot as much as possible. There were a good few inches between he and Cartman. Kyle looked over to find him staring at the ceiling, chest rising and falling rapidly. The condom hung obscenely from his softening cock. 

As if reading Kyle’s thoughts, he reached down and pulled it off, tying it and throwing it into the wastebasket. 

“I see your basketball skills have improved,” Kyle said, as dryly as he could muster when while still breathing raggedly. 

“I see you’re still a bitch even after getting fucked blind,” Cartman retorted. 

Kyle found himself smiling lazily, his eyes drifting closed. 

He opened them when he felt the mattress shift and watched as Cartman padded towards the door, taking in the view of his dippled ass. Yeah, that was a fat ass, he decided, but fuck if it didn’t turn him on anyway. 

“Where are you going?” he called. 

Cartman didn’t respond, just returned a second later with the box of donuts, bouncing back onto the bed, his body jiggling along with the bed. Kyle was happy Cartman’s self-consciousness from last night seemed to have evaporated. 

He shook his head in amusement as Cartman bit into one, his eyes closing in ecstasy. He wondered if he looked that way when he came, and was shocked to discover just how much he wanted to find out. 

Cartman offered him a donut, which Kyle accepted. They sat back against the headboard, eating in silence before Cartman spoke up, “You’re dying to know, so just ask.” 

Kyle looked at him quizzically. “What?” 

Cartman gave him an evil grin. “Which tastes better – the donut or your ass?” 

Kyle flushed and buried his head in his hands. “God, stop.” 

Cartman slapped what he could reach of Kyle’s ass, which wasn’t much. “The donut, of course.” 

When Kyle looked up, Cartman’s eyes were dancing, betraying nothing. 

“I’d be worried if you said otherwise.” 

Cartman looked at him, oddly. “I guess I was wrong then, about my earlier assessment.” 

Kyle felt the tips of his ears burn, suddenly keenly aware how naked he was and how much more he was going feel if this conversation went the way he thought it was. 

“Whatever, Cartman,” he said, swinging his legs off the bed and getting up to pull on his boxers. 

“Huh,” he heard Cartman say behind him. “Were you seriously never interested in rimming?” 

Kyle scowled and angrily shoved on his jeans, zipping them up roughly. “Not everyone does everything,” he said, voice indignant, feeling like a kid again. 

Cartman just stared at him, then got on his knees on the bed and inched toward the foot of it. Kyle swallowed, staring at his cock which still wasn’t completely soft. He tugged Kyle in by his waistband until the front of is knees hit the edge of the bed. 

Cartman’s hand palmed his ass as he mouthed at his neck. “Your ass is incredible and I’d eat it all fucking day if I could,” Cartman breathed against him, making him shiver, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. 

Kyle couldn’t help the moan that escaped his lips. His own mouth found Cartman’s earlobe and he tugged on it sharply, loving the gasp it aroused. 

“Do you like having it done to you?” he asked, genuinely curious. 

He heard a quick intake of breath before Cartman was kissing along his shoulder blades. “I fucking love it.” 

Kyle’s hands found his sides, palming up and down the soft folds. “It was really hot,” he admitted. 

Cartman placed a sucking bruise to his collarbone. “You were a natural, Jew.” 

He pushed at Cartman, who just laughed and fell back onto the bed, running a hand down his own body. “I’ll have you eating ass in no time,” he said cockily. The mixture of the filth spilling from his lips and the implication that this would indeed be happening again made Kyle’s face heat. 

“We’ll see,” he croaked out. “So, I should go.” 

He watched as a muscle in Cartman’s jaw twitched. “Yeah, gotta get home to Mommy and Daddy before they worry.” 

“Fuck off,” Kyle said good-naturedly before pulling on his shirt. Cartman was suddenly right in front of him again, looming and huge, and he made Kyle’s breath catch in his throat. He raised one fingertip to Kyle’s neck and traced last night’s bruises. 

“Was in such a hurry to get you naked I didn’t have a chance to admire my handywork.” 

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks for that. They’ve been throbbing all day.” 

Cartman let out a loud snort. “I’m not even going to touch that one.” 

“I appreciate that,” he said, a half-smile breaking through even though he wanted to hold it back. 

He put on his shoes and socks, and Cartman walked him to the door, still naked, while Kyle put on his coat. 

This was the only time he felt truly awkward. He wasn’t sure if it was because he’d never left right after sex before or if it was simply the act of leaving alone. Either way, it was a feeling he couldn’t shake and he felt utterly stupid as his formed the words, “This was fun.” 

Cartman rolled his eyes. “You’re thinking too much, aren’t you? I can see the wheels in your tiny Jew brain spinning.” 

“My brain isn’t tiny!” 

Cartman groaned. “You always focus on the unimportant parts of the sentence, Kyle!” 

Cartman took his face in his hands and pushed him back against the door. “Stop. Fucking. Thinking,” he said, punctuating each word with a bite to Kyle’s lips, his chin, his jaw. “We fucked. You’re leaving. I want to fuck again, and soon. End of story.” 

Kyle searched his face, wondering if things could really be that easy. Just because this wasn’t what his life had been like, didn’t mean it couldn’t work. 

“I don’t like it when you’re smarter than me,” he said. 

“Hey! Fucking asshole,” but Cartman’s mouth was twitching. 

Cartman eased away from him and opened the door. “Just to be clear, I want to again too,” Kyle said after walking down one of the steps, turning back to look at Cartman.

“As if I couldn’t tell,” Cartman deadpanned, but Kyle was sure he saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes. 

He drove home feeling looser and more relaxed than he could ever remember, wanting nothing more than to do it all over again. When he got home, he went to the kitchen for a glass of water and saw his unemployment check sitting on the counter. He felt his stomach sink as he was reminded he wasn’t living in some fantasy world where there was only sex and nothing else. _This_ was why he was here and he damned well better kick it into high gear if he wanted to get his life back on track. 

He went to bed, stomach heavier as he tried to imagine the rest of his life and realized he couldn’t, when only a few months ago he thought he had it all planned out. He tossed and turned before passing out, his earlier euphoria sadly gone. 

_______________________

When Kyle awoke, parts of his body that he had forgotten could ache were doing just that. He winced as he got out of bed, the prior evenings events assaulting his mind in a blinding rush. He immediately felt his morning erection twitch at the memory and smiled to himself. Today meant serious business; a day of online job hunting, which was an automatic dim concept in and of itself (for every one job you were qualified for there was always ten you weren’t). Still, he could allow himself the memory briefly, as long as it didn’t consume him. 

At 10am he received a text from Cartman asking if he was working today and that he couldn’t stop thinking about Kyle’s ass. 

The words immediately made Kyle’s body burn with desire, but he pushed it aside. He couldn’t allow himself to get sidetracked right now. He responded no, he wasn’t on schedule and left it at that. Cartman didn’t text back. 

Kyle spend hours browsing every website he knew of and then doing Google searches specifically for firms in Denver, checking out their sites and seeing if they had a careers section on their pages. He ended up with only five jobs to apply for, but it was still five more than yesterday. He tried to expand his horizons into accounting but even that was few and far between. He applied for a bookkeeper position just outside of Denver but he had a feeling it was entry level which meant low to mid 20s a year and that just wasn’t going to cut it. There was only one job that truly struck his interest out of the ones he applied for. They’d been looking for someone with a few more years experience than him but he hoped his qualifications would make up for it. He used his boss as a reference, hoping that he’d be honest and give him a good recommendation as his letting go was mainly due to his lack of seniority. 

Kyle then went to a salary calculating website and figured out exactly how much he needed to earn now in order to at _least_ be to pay his bills and afford rent on his own. After a lot of figuring, including pricing the apartments in and around Denver, he determined it had to be no less than in the middle thirties. 

 

He realized he’d barely been on any blogs or social networking websites since returning home. He couldn’t help wonder why it’d been such a huge part of his life before, with Stan, when now he could take or leave it all so easy. Sure, things were different and his real life priorities had changed, but at the same time it made him think perhaps he hadn’t been resigned-yet-content.  
Maybe he really had been going through the motions and latching onto other things to excite him. 

Kyle had a headache by the time he left his room, stretching with his arms over his head and nearly jumping out of his skin when he wondered into the living room and saw Ike sitting there shirtless. “Jesus Christ, you scared me!” 

Ike raised a beer can in salute. 

Kyle scratched his head. “You’re drinking? What time is it, dude? And um, hello, I’ve barely seen you.” 

Ike bounded off the couch and gave Kyle a hug, still holding the beer. “S’up, brother!” 

Kyle laughed and patted him on the back. He tugged at Ike’s hair which was down to his shoulders. “How has dad not killed you over this yet?” 

“The man cannot keep me down!” he said and then flopped back on the couch as he watched reruns of “Saved by the Bell.” Kyle sat down beside him. 

“And to answer your question, it’s like two o’clock, you’ve been holed up in your room all day.” 

“Oh. Well, you’re not twenty-one yet.”

Ike stared at him. “Chill, _dad_ , holy fuck. I’ll be twenty-one in a matter of _days_.” 

Shit, that was right. Kyle nearly forgotten and started mentally planning something. Then he swiped Ike’s beer and took a long gulp while Ike cried out, affronted. 

Kyle smirked and gave it back. On screen Kelly Kapowski was cheating on Zack Morris. 

“These episodes were depressing,” Kyle said. 

Ike laughed, hard. “These episodes were _unrealistic_. Who the fuck cheats on Zack Morris? Dude was the king of pussy.” 

Kyle groaned. “I never should have let you hang around Kenny when you’d come up to visit.” 

“Kenny is the shit. Too bad he isn’t gay, dude. He probably wouldn’t have dumped ya.” 

Kyle kept to himself that Kenny was definitely a tad bit gay, when the moment struck. “No, he just wouldn’t have been able to keep his dick in his pants.” 

They sat in silence, watching as Kelly macked on another guy. “Dad thinks you’re cutting class.” 

Ike rolled his eyes. “I go to all my classes. I’d just rather him think that then have to tell them I’m sleeping with a grad student who dorms at SPU.” 

Kyle wasn’t even surprised. “You always did like the older girls.” 

“I’m twenty, she’s twenty-five. Big deal.” 

Kyle scratched at one of the bruises on his neck and shrugged, not really feeling like playing the parent today. 

“Holy shit!” Ike exclaimed, and Kyle looked at the TV but it was just a commercial. Then Ike was tugging at the hem of Kyle’s shirt and he felt all the blood drain from his face. “Dude, who the fuck mauled you? Jesus, and here I thought you were moping in your room over Stan.” 

Kyle felt a flash of irritation. “I don’t _mope_ , Ike. God, how long have you known me?” 

“Apparently not long enough as I didn’t think you’d be getting your gay on in fucking _South Park_.” 

Kyle groaned and pressed the balls of his hands to his eyes.” Just... don’t say anything to Mom and Dad, alright?” 

Ike just stared at him, incredulously. “Dude. You’re _twenty-five_ , not fifteen. What does it matter?” 

“They wouldn’t understand and I’d rather not deal with the bullshit.” 

“Okay, okay!” Ike thankfully sat back and stopped staring at Kyle like he’d grown three heads. Then Kyle felt a poke to his ribs. “Sooo...who is he? Some sugar daddy?” Ike said, drawing out his words in an exaggerated, amused fashion. 

“Are you sure you’re from Canada and not a different planet? No, not a sugar daddy, Jesus.” 

Ike hummed. “Too bad; it’d solve all your problems.” 

Kyle felt the laughter rise in throat before he stop it and then he was cracking up, his head falling back against the couch as Ike’s body shook beside him. They sat there, laughing their asses off for long minutes. 

It felt good to hang out with his little brother. They sat on the couch, eating Doritos and drinking beer in mid-afternoon while lives fell apart on “Saved by the Bell” before switching over to the Family Channel for some good old fashioned “Full House.” Kyle tried not to focus on the lack of noise from his phone, feeling a little bad about his earlier dismissal and how it could’ve looked to Cartman. He needed some distance though; if just a text from Cartman got him hard, he was in serious trouble. 

His parents came home early, and said they were going to temple. Kyle figured there was no quicker way to forget about sex than that. 

When they came home, his mom started dinner while his dad gave Kyle and Ike their presents. 

“Dad, you didn’t have to,” Kyle protested, but his dad waved his hand. 

“Nonsense. It’s nice to have you around during the holidays. And hey, maybe your brother will hang around more.” 

Ike just rolled his eyes. Kyle opened the gift; it was a new scarf and glove set. Kyle hadn’t loosened his scarf since coming in from temple. Ike snorted with laughter and Kyle elbowed him hard. 

“Thanks Dad, it’s great,” he said, hugging him. Before he could go into the kitchen to thank his mom, his phone rang. He looked at the screen and his heart raced. 

“Um, sorry, I have to take this,” he said hastily, bounding up the stairs to the sound of Ike’s continuous laughter behind him while his father asked, “What on earth is wrong with you? Are you high?”

“Hello?” he said, when inside his room with the door closed. 

“Jew, what the fuck? I give you the best sex of your life and you ignore me all day? Weak.” 

Kyle found himself smiling, wishing he weren’t. He cleared his expression as if Cartman could see it. “How do _you_ know it was the best sex of my life?” 

Cartman snorted. “Please, there is no way Marsh ever fucked you that good.” 

Kyle felt his skin tingle. “You’re awfully sure of yourself, fatass.” 

“I’m a detective; I know the signs. Blown pupils, trembling body, knees buckling as you come, screaming and panting. Ass clenching around my dick like it’s never had anything better.”

Kyle felt raw by the end of Cartman’s words, and he wanted nothing more to give himself over and do it all over again. He sighed. “What do you want, Cartman?” 

“Uhhhh… to bake cookies and braid each other’s hair. What the fuck do you think?” 

“I can’t tonight.” 

There was a brief pause on the end of the line. “Well, why the hell not?” 

Kyle scrubbed a hand over his face. “Look, in case you forgot, I lost my fucking job, which happened to be my _career_. I need to be focusing on finding something else.” 

“Uh huuhhh. And something is magically going to open up for you at eight o’clock on a Thursday night.” 

Kyle punched his hand against his door. “Yes, no, I don’t know, alright? I just need to fucking focus.” 

“So sorry to get in the way of that by giving you orgasms,” Cartman said sarcastically. 

“Cartman-“ he started 

“Nah, I get it, Jew. Focus on getting back to your life and making all that fucking money so that Mommy and Daddy are proud.” 

Cartman hung up and Kyle glared at the phone and muttered, “Asshole,” before tossing it on his desk and booting up his laptop, hoping a few jobs have appeared on some sites since this afternoon. 

________________________________________

Luckily, by the next day, Kyle’s bruises had faded to a manageable level. He honestly didn’t realize how deeply Cartman broke the skin but damn, if he hadn’t done a number on him. Kyle couldn’t exactly complain as he didn’t exactly ask him to stop. Truth be told, he’d take his neck being sucked over his dick nine times out of ten. He was sure that made him some kind of freak. Cartman seemed be in-tune to his desires, catching on pretty quickly. 

Kyle stopped his train of thought abruptly as it was very possible he wouldn’t be having his neck _or_ his dick sucked again anytime soon. He wasn’t going to apologize as he didn’t do anything wrong. So he wanted a day to himself, big fucking deal. They may have agreed to “keep fucking” but it wasn’t as though they’d decided a frequency. If Cartman couldn’t handle that, then Kyle didn’t need his shit. 

Cartman didn’t come into his work that day. Kyle took his break in the back room and talked to Stan on the phone. 

“Dude, it’s Friday, and Kenny and I were thinking we’d bus it out to you and go for drinks.” 

“You seriously want to take a long-ass bus ride out here on a Friday night?” 

“Well if we drive we can’t drink.” 

Kyle shook his head fondly. “No, I meant. You don’t need to waste your Friday nights by coming out here, Stan.” 

“Kyle, it’s not a waste. We’d like to see you.” Stan’s voice was low and warm. It felt... comfortable. Kyle almost wished it felt more than that, but it didn’t. 

“Okay, that’d be fun.” It would at least get his mind off his job woes (and Cartman) for a while. 

Stan and Kenny were getting in on the 8:15 bus. The stop was centrally located (everything in South Park was centrally located) so they agreed to just meet at the bar at 8:30. He appeased his mom by having dinner with the family, showered, and made his way over, having worked until five. Stan and Kenny were already seated at the table next to the one Kyle, Cartman and Craig had been at earlier in the week. Kyle didn’t even think that it was very possible he’d run into Cartman until that moment. He shook off the thought and made his way over. 

Kenny and Stan smiled when they saw him, Kenny standing to give him a guy hug before doing some weird handshake thing that Kyle never did get the hang of. Stan hugged him tightly. Kyle breathed in, noting he smelt exactly the same, always wearing one particular cologne that Kyle loved. Hugging Stan was like reliving memories. 

“It’s good to see you,” Stan whispered. Kyle nodded against his shoulder, not trusting his voice. He didn’t want this again, he knew better, but the memories of it meant a time when everything made sense and his life was in order. Kyle could certainly lose himself in that kind of familiarity. 

When he pulled back he caught Stan’s eye and realized he was probably thinking the same thing. They smiled at each other, a little tightly, and sat down. 

Kenny exclaimed he wanted food. “I had a stale pretzel at the bus depot, man, I need some fucking wings.” 

“I could go for wings,” Stan chimed in. “Kyle?” 

Kyle shook his head. “I’m totally stuffed. My mom cooked everything fried and Jewish under the sun tonight.” 

“Oh, shit, it’s Hanukkah. I totally forgot.” 

Stan would always buy him presents each night; it wasn’t like it was his job to remember anymore, though. 

“Don’t worry,” Kyle waved him off. 

Kenny was flagging down a waitress and then did a double take, as though only now looking around the place. “Wait, when did this town become chick central?” 

Kyle laughed. “You should hang out with Craig, you two would get along great now,” he said, the words leaving his mouth automatically. 

Stan looked at him, surprised. “You’ve hung out with Craig? You didn’t mention that.” 

Kyle felt a nervous twitch to his jaw. “Must’ve slipped my mind, man.” 

“Huh,” Stan replied. 

Kenny ignored them. “Spill the deets, Broflovski!” 

Kyle laughed again, and this time, thankfully, Stan joined in. “Not much to tell, just that there’s apparently a ton of co-eds around because of the college.” 

Kenny whistled to himself, watching a girl in particular tight jeans walk by. “Think I’ll come up to visit you more often, bro,” Kenny quipped. 

Kyle and Stan shared an exaggerated look, and it felt like old times. “I guess you’re single again,” Kyle said, not even pretending it was a question. 

“No woman can tame me, man.” 

Just then, the waitress appeared and smirked, definitely having overheard. 

“Although… this lovely one could try,” Kenny finished, suave as ever and looking up at the waitress with innocent eyes. 

“Flirt all you like honey, if it means me getting a good tip.” 

“Honesty!” Kenny exclaimed, clapping Stan on the back. “I love that. Alright, gentleman, what are we ordering?” 

Kenny and Stan ordered a twenty piece wings for the table and fries while Kenny ordered a New Castle, Stan a Coors Light (amidst snickers from Kenny) and Kyle a Sam Adams Winter Lager. 

They bullshitted a bit about the bar, the weather, the smelly bus trip. “So, how you been, man?” Kenny asked when their beers arrived. 

Kyle shrugged. “Alright, I guess. Whole thing feels kinda surreal.” 

Kyle snuck a glance at Stan, who looked uncomfortable. Kyle sighed. “Look, guys, I just want to have a good time tonight, okay? It’s not like someone fucking died. Shit happens. I’m living at home right now, I’m working at Game Stop and I’m looking for a new fucking job. It sucks, but I’m dealing. End of story.” 

Stan nodded, his face beginning to even out. Kenny sat stone-faced, but Kyle could see his mouth twitching and waited. 

“Sooooo, exactly how much of a discount can you get me at Game Stop?” he finally said, and they all laughed.

From there on out, the ice had been broken, and Kyle thankfully didn’t see sympathy and guilt every time he looked at Stan. The food arrived as they were talking about the Broncos, all of them wishing they had the money to go to a game. 

After two beers each, they were in a full-on argument over who kicked more ass in their day: Steven Segal or Jean-Claude Van Damme. Then Stan interrupted Kenny’s oh-so-sophisticated argument of Because I Fucking Said So! with, “Holy Shit, is that _Cartman_?” 

Kyle felt his stomach drop into his feet and looked toward the bar with trepidation. That was indeed Cartman, sitting off to the far left side of the bar, nursing what could possibly be whisky. 

Kenny looked over. “Hells yeah it is!” and bounded over to him before Kyle could open his mouth. Kyle felt his hands shake as he watched Kenny slap Cartman on the back. Cartman shoved at him and then they did the handshake thing which Cartman _didn’t_ fuck up and Kyle once again wondered just how much these two had kept in touch and why he and Stan were never invited. 

Beside him, Stan spoke up. “Wow, he looks a lot different, you were right.” 

“It’s been seven years, Stan,” he pointed out, a little sharply. 

“Dude, chill!” 

Kyle bit the inside of his lip, watching pretending not to watch as Kenny was making the universal sign for boobs with his hands while Cartman rolled his eyes. Then Kenny pointed over toward the table, and Cartman looked over, his eyes hardening as he saw Kyle. Kyle felt his stomach jump as he watched Kenny push at Cartman until he finally got off the stool. 

“Heh, since when is _Cartman_ shy?” Stan was saying around his beer as he watched the exchange. 

Kyle swallowed as they walked over. 

“Small fucking town, eh boys?” Kenny said, grinning widely. Stan was seated against the back wall and Kenny next to him, which meant Cartman would be sitting between Kenny and Kyle and opposite Stan. He was wearing a black hoodie that said, “They lied to us this was supposed to be the future; where is my jetpack,” and a bunch of other words in smaller writing that Kyle couldn’t make out. It was so inherently Cartman. He also noted that the only time he’d seen Cartman in clothes without writing on them (aside from when he’s working) was that first night at the bar, when they’d had an actual “plan.” It made him slightly curious. 

He took a seat, raising his glass at Stan. “Marsh, you look exactly the same; once a hippie, always a hippie.” 

Stan snorted. “And you, Cartman, are your charming, affable self as always.”

“Affable. Did you teach him that word, Kyle? All those nights you probably sat around playing scrabble or reading the dictionary.” Cartman smirked in his direction but his eyes still held tension.

“Close, fatass. We put on Jane Austen plays for fun on the weekends.”

Kenny cracked up and Stan grinned at him. 

Cartman sat back and nodded appreciatively. “Well played, Jew. Well played.” 

“So how’s life, Cartman?” Stan asked, popping a fry into his mouth. 

“Weak; I’m selling crack to keep my baby mama fed and she’s got another on the way. Shit’s tough in the hood, yo,” he deadpanned, stealing a wing. 

Kenny cackled. “Sad thing is the most unbelievable part of that is you being straight.” 

Kyle’s eyes turned immediately to Stan, who looked shocked. 

“Come now, Kenny, I know it’s ever so tough being the minority at the table but I promise, you’ll survive. You can do this.” 

Stan was still staring, while Cartman said, “Close your fucking mouth, Marsh, and stop acting like you’ve never seen a fag before.” 

Stan sat back and took a long drink. “Sorry, it’s just. Unexpected. But apparently not to anyone else at this table,” Stan said, glaring at Kenny, and then looking expectantly at Kyle. 

Kyle shrugged. “He knew about us from that dickwad over there so I guess he needed to gloat about being here and queer.” 

“Eh, I’m in the fucking room, assholes.” 

“Yeah, me too,” Kenny said, and Kyle didn’t need to look at him to know he was grinning broadly, loving all of this. 

Stan seemed to take all this in, and then said, “Well, welcome to the team?” 

Kenny laughed some more, downing the rest of his beer and raising it to the waitress for another while Cartman shifted a little and said, “Gosh, Stan, thank you ever so much. My gayness has sorely been lacking prior to your approval.” 

Then Kyle felt a huge hand on his thigh, squeezing rhythmically, and he had to keep his foot planted firm on the floor so as not to jump in surprise. 

The table was square and extended enough to cover them. Kyle reached for a glass of water on the table and tried to shove Cartman’s hand off by flexing upward. Cartman just gripped him tighter, and Kyle felt his face flare with arousal at the same time his cock began to stir. 

“If we’re done talking about Cartman’s sexuality, can we please get back to the important stuff? As I was saying, Stan, Segal could kick the shit outta Van Damme any day of the week.” 

“How can you even say that? Name me one fucking…” Kyle tuned them out, the blood rushing in his ears as Cartman’s fingers splayed wide on his thigh, tips of his fingers inching over the inseam of his jeans. Kyle wasn’t about to cover Cartman’s hand with his own so he did the only thing he could think of aside from making an abrupt exit. 

He pulled out his phone and shot off a quick text while Stan and Kenny were oblivious and occupied. 

**Get your fucking hand off my leg. NOW**

He had hoped Cartman reaching for his buzzing phone would cause his hand to move, but he used his left and then Kyle watched out of the corner of his eye as Cartman typed back one-handed. 

**This is making u so hot isnt it? Marsh sitting right over there while i feel u up. Wanna shove my hand inside ur jeans and jerk u off right here**

Kyle nearly moaned when he looked at his phone. Stan and Kenny were now arguing about mixed-martial arts versus kickboxing. Cartman’s fingers ghosted over his cock, and Kyle was horrified when it gave a slight twitch. 

Cartman was texting again. Kyle debated not looking at his phone, but curiosity won out. 

**I felt that bitch. Shit u want it, want my mouth on u? Want me on my knees under this table sucking u off?**

Kyle’s eyes grew hazy with heat and he typed out, **You couldn’t fucking fit under there** before looking up. Kenny caught his eye and winked. Kyle swallowed around the lump in his throat. Kenny couldn’t know, he was just… being Kenny. 

Kyle smiled a little shakily. Stan and Kenny’s conversation seemed to have tapered off. Kyle sat in silence, Cartman’s hand still on his thigh. Stan finally got Cartman to admit what he did for a living and they were off and running on that while Kyle drank his beer and made quips in the appropriate spots. He was thankful that Cartman being occupied meant no new texts, although he could only imagine what Cartman was thinking as his fingernails scraped along the outline of Kyle’s half-hard erection. He was lost in thought when he noticed Stan calling to him. 

“Kyle. Kyle!” 

“Huh?” 

Stan frowned. “Are you okay? Your face is kinda red.”

Kyle shoved a hand through his hair and jerked his chair back, finally breaking lose of Cartman’s grip. “Yeah, I. I just don’t feel that well, I’ll be right back.” 

He walked away from the table to Cartman’s voice sounding, “Bitch-ass can’t hold his alcohol.” 

Kyle pissed, which unfortunately did nothing to make his semi go down, and then ran some water over his face. He stood at the sink, gripped it tightly, and took a few deep breaths. When the door opened, he looked to his left, utterly unsurprised to find it was Cartman. Kyle angrily pushed on the paper towel dispenser and wiped at his hands and face. “You’re a fucking asshole,” he said as Cartman stepped in beside him. 

“And you’re a fucking lying, scheming Jew, but why am I surprised?” 

Kyle threw the towel in the garbage and faced Cartman, hands crossed over his chest and grateful that there was no one in the bathroom right now. “What exactly did I lie about?” 

“I need to concentrate, I need to find a job, wah wah wah,” Cartman said, in a high-pitched, childlike voice. “Some fucking concentrating.”

Kyle shook his head in disgust. “I’m sorry your ego is so fucking fragile that you can’t handle someone saying no for a night. Yesterday, I wanted to concentrate. Today, I wanted distraction, and after your fucking _hissy_ fit I figured you weren’t necessarily interested anymore.”

Cartman’s eyes flashed and then Kyle found himself being jerked into the stall behind them and shoved against the door. 

“Jesus, Cartman,” he panted in surprise. 

Cartman leaned in close, one large hand on Kyle’s face, cupping his jaw and chin. “I probably shouldn’t be since you’re constantly on your period, but fuck it if I am,” Cartman said lowly before pressing their lips together. Kyle’s mouth opened immediately, ready for this since the first touch of Cartman’s hand on his leg. They breathed into one another’s mouths, tongues tangling, kissing as deeply as they could and then pulling back to bite at the corners of each others mouths before doing it all over again. Cartman was grinding up against him and Kyle could feel he was almost fully hard. 

“Come over,” Cartman panted against his lips. 

“Yes, yeah,” Kyle agreed, blindly, as Cartman’s hand squeezed his ass. 

“Say you think you have a fever or something, the hippie already thinks you’re sick,” Cartman said against his neck; Kyle tried to forget that Stan was out there. 

“I can’t just leave yet, not until they do.” 

Cartman groaned unhappily against him, licking a slow line up his neck. “Fine. I’ll go out there and say I’m bored and am leaving and that you looked like shit in the bathroom. Stay in here for a few more minutes.”

Cartman groped him once more then opened the door to the stall and slipped out. Kyle listened as he turned on the water and waited for the sound of his retreating footsteps. He ran a hand through his hair and was happy he was wearing a casual t-shirt that hung over the front of his jeans. 

Once he was reasonably certain it no longer looked as though he’d just been groped in the bathroom, Kyle left. 

He approached the table and tried to look innocent as he said, “Hey guys. Where’s the fatass?” 

Kenny waved vaguely. “Said Stan had bored him to tears.” 

“Hey, you okay?” Stan asked, and Kyle felt a wave of guilt at the concern in his voice. 

“Yeah, uh. Was feeling really dizzy and warm. Might have a fever, I dunno.” 

“Did you wanna leave?” 

“No, it’s cool. We can stay.” 

So they did, for about a half hour longer and Kyle found he was only slightly distracted by the prospect of sex. They laughed, bouncing from topic to topic and it felt like old times. As the evening wound down, he thought about Cartman waiting for him and felt prickling heat all over his skin. 

“You’re looking all flushed again, dude, you should go. We’re gonna head back anyway.”

Kyle nodded and they walked out together after throwing money on the table to cover the bill. 

They said their goodbyes, hugging, and Stan told him to feel better. Kyle felt a little like a heel. He didn’t want to lie to Stan, he never had before. But at the same time, he didn’t regret the evening. He had a great time with Stan and Kenny and the Cartman thing, while odd and strained at first, really did turn him on. There was something dangerous about it that Kyle had never experienced before. He wondered if the four of them could hang out together again under circumstances that didn’t begin with Cartman annoyed to the point that he acted like a possessive kid with a toy. Kyle was surprised that he’d be willing to find out. 

He pulled out of the parking lot and headed in the direction of Cartman’s house, anticipation swirling in his gut. 

________________________

Cartman buzzed him in but wasn’t waiting at the top of the stairs like Kyle expected. He could hear the faint sound of music and followed it up. The door was open and he found Cartman walking out of the kitchen with a beer in his hand, humming to the song. Kyle never really got a good look around his apartment. There was a living room in front of him, the kitchen off to the left, not terribly large but decent. Cartman’s couch was off-white. There was a black coffee table, two end tables, and a black TV stand for another flat screen. Kyle noted the Wii, X-box, Blu-ray player, and even a PS3. He shook his head in amusement. 

Cartman was standing toward the back wall of the living room, in front of the _fireplace_ , God, leave it to Cartman to be so cheesy, adjusting the volume on his iPod dock and setting down his beer. It was then that Kyle took in the song that was nearly over. 

“Take Me Home Tonight?”

Cartman turned and looked him up and down. “I think I already did.” 

Kyle rolled his eyes and took a few steps forward at the same time as Cartman did. “The song, asswipe. This is seriously one of the cheesiest songs to ever exist.” 

“This is an 80s classic. It ranks right up there with ‘Don’t Stop Believin’’, Jersey boy.” 

“Uh, yeah, you definitely didn’t just go there. Those two songs are not even in on the same wavelength.”

“Anytime you’d like to quit harshing my buzz would be nice,” Cartman said with mock patience. 

He’d stepped into Kyle’s space and tugged him in by the waist. Just before their mouths met, a new song came on and Kyle’s eyes went wide. 

“The Pixies?” 

“Huh?” Cartman asked distractedly, staring at Kyle’s lips. 

“This is ‘Hey.’” 

“So?” 

“So I would’ve thought for sure they’d be one of your so called ‘hippie bands.’ 

Cartman smirked and stepped away, cracking up the volume. “Oh contraire. This song happens to have a killer baseline. Plus, the lead singer is huge. You don’t see many fat rockstars. It gives me hope.” 

“To be a rockstar,” Kyle said flatly. 

“I’m only twenty-five. It could happen.”

Kyle laughed, and then his eyes widened in horror as Cartman started doing something that was meant to be dancing but looked more like a seizure. 

“Must be a devil, between us, and the whores in my bed,” he sang, exaggerating his words as much as his movements. Kyle side stepped him as he came closer. 

“Oh my God, stop. Although now I see the connection to your other music; singing about whores.” 

Cartman ignored him, grooving his body to the beat. He bent his knees and held his hands out, while he dramatically yelled, “If you go, I will _surely_ die!” in perfect time and infliction with the singer. “We’re chain-a-ained,” he drew out, stalking closer and backing Kyle up against the wall next to the TV while Kyle laughed at the entire scene. 

His back hit the wall at the same time their mouths met, Cartman starting a slow grinding rhythm with his hips, increasing his movements as the guitars and drums kicked in to high gear, and then they were off and run, zero to sixty. Kyle sucked at his lips, his tongue inching to part Cartman’s own. He fisted his hand in Cartman’s hair, pulled at his hoodie and tugged him in even closer as the intensity of the kiss heated up. All the playful energy that Kyle had been surprised to see from Cartman a few seconds ago melted away as he plunged his tongue deeply into Kyle’s mouth, licking behind his teeth. 

“I always seem to end up against a wall,” Kyle panted, against his mouth as Cartman’s hand worked its way between their bodies, palming at his cock. 

“It’s a good look for you,” Cartman breathed, dipping his head to bite at Kyle’s throat. Once again, he seemed to be aware just how much that made Kyle crazy, doing it every chance he got. Not even Stan paid that much attention to Kyle’s neck in all the years they were together. “But I know an even better one,” Cartman continued. 

“I’m sure I can guess,” Kyle replied, hoping the eye roll was evident in his voice. 

“You on your hands and knees on my bed as I fuck you.” 

Kyle laughed. “Yeah, thought so.” 

Cartman tugged on his earlobe with his teeth. “Am I that predictable already? No, that won’t do. Perhaps I should break out the toys.” 

Kyle heard his breathing hitch. “Toys?” 

He could feel Cartman’s face form a grin against him. “Oh yeah, you like that idea, huh? Fucking filthy slut.” 

Kyle slapped his ass. “What kind of toys, fatass?” 

“Well, I do own a pair of handcuffs, genius.” 

Kyle let his hands wander over Cartman’s ass, squeezing, pulling him closer while he mouthed at Cartman’s neck. “I’ve never done that,” he admitted, hating the embarrassment he felt. 

Cartman pulled back to stare at him. “Seriously? Not even the gay fuzzy ones from Spencer’s?” 

“No, fuckwad, not even those,” Kyle bit out angrily. 

Cartman raised his hands to Kyle’s face, sweeping his the pads of his thumbs across Kyle’s cheeks, over his mouth, thumbing at his lips. “How did that hippie not tie you to the bedpost every chance he got?” 

Kyle shivered at the words and the touch, his mouth dry. He wanted to say that hell, maybe Stan would have but it’s not like they ever talked about those things. Sex was sex – it happened and then it was over. It didn’t consume them. Not… _Not like this_ , Kyle thought. 

He looked at Cartman through lowered eyelashes, as his thumb skidded over his mouth. He caught it between his lips and didn’t blink as he ran his tongue over it slowly. 

“Oh..” Cartman said, the words seemingly forced out of him, surprise evident. “Yeah, that. That look works, too.” 

Kyle mouth stretched into a grin and took him in deeper, swirling his tongue around the digit, then sucking hard. He heard Cartman exhale on a shudder before pulling his thumb away and kissing Kyle again, hands rough beneath his ass, rocking their bodies together. 

Then Cartman pulled back, grinning. “This. Is. The. Sounnnnnd.” He sang, shimming his body and tossing his hoodie over his head. 

Kyle’s head fell back against the wall and he groaned, covering his hand over his eyes. “Please, make it stop.” 

“My favorite part. Wait for it.” 

Kyle had no choice but to obey. And he was off again, knees bent and hands held out in front of him like a microphone. “That the mother makes! When the baby breaks!” he screeched out, and Kyle had to admit, it was a very Cartman-like moment in song, if there ever was one. Well, aside from… 

“Hey, Cartman,” he started, the evil thought spinning around in his head like a top. 

He looked at Kyle expectantly, seemingly done with his solo and ready to get back down to business, moving in and thumbing at Kyle’s shirt. 

“I’m saillling away.” 

“Mother _fucker_ ,” Cartman exclaimed. Then pressed Kyle back against the wall and bit hard at his throat. “Not gonna happen. I’ve learned impulse control in adulthood. Sex before Styx, Kyle.” 

Kyle was definitely okay with that. He found himself in a familiar setting; stumbling his way backwards into the bedroom. All the lights were on and Kyle closed his eyes against them, palming at expanse of Cartman’s naked back while his lips skimmed over his shoulder, tasting salty skin and breathing in Cartman’s cologne, so different from Stan’s; muskier, more pronounced. 

Cartman’s hands slipped under Kyle’s shirt, then immediately dipped beneath his waistband, sliding his index finger down between his cheeks. Kyle flexed unconsciously, and he felt Cartman’s grin against his throat. “Want me inside you?” 

Kyle dug his nails into Cartman’s back. “What do you think?” 

Kyle groaned at the scrapping of teeth over his Adam’s apple. “I think it’s tragic you’re still wearing this much clothing.” 

“Someone was more interested in singing than getting me naked,” Kyle pointed out, and then gasped as Cartman pinched his nipple. 

Kyle’s eyes flew open, and he mouthed his way across to Cartman’s other shoulder as he focused on the dresser behind him… and then he froze and backed away. 

“What?” Cartman asked, sounding frustrated. 

“Dude, your fucking gun is on your dresser.” 

Cartman looked behind him, then back at Kyle. “And?” 

Kyle looked over at it, wearily. “Aside from the still horrific knowledge that you’re allowed to carry a lethal weapon, it’s _out in plain sight, dude_.” 

“I’m falling to see the big deal,” Cartman said, scratching below his own nipple. 

“Ugh, you’re impossible.” 

“It has the fucking safety on! Besides, you were fine a second ago with my job, seeing as we’re going to be using these,” he concluded the sentence by turning and pulling out a pair of handcuffs from the top drawer of his dresser. 

Kyle slapped a hand over his face. “The cuffs you put in the drawer, but the gun you leave out.” 

Cartman looked at him intently and said. “You never know, Kyle. You just never know.” His voice was pseudo-serious and dramatic. 

Kyle refused to grin. “You’d be more believable right now if you weren’t half naked.” 

Cartman moved in, like an animal stalking its prey, backing Kyle up until the back of his legs hit the bed. “Good thing I don’t care about being believable.” He pulled Kyle’s shirt up and off, tossing it to the side and leaning down to suck at his nipple. Kyle arched under the touch, moaning as Cartman pulled sharply on the hard flesh. “Now forget about the fucking gun.”

Kyle sighed and twisted his fingers in Cartman’s hair at the nape of his neck. “Such a bastard.” 

And then he was on his back on the bed and they were pulling at one another’s jeans and kicking off shoes, scrambling toward the headboard, kissing the whole time. 

Cartman was a ridiculously good kisser; he put everything he had into it, like there was something to prove. Every so often, a choked-off moan would make its way to Kyle’s ears, rumbling against his mouth and all he wanted to do was hear that again. Cartman had one hand tangled in Kyle’s hair, his other working on Kyle’s jeans. The handcuffs must have been dropped onto the mattress, but Kyle honestly wasn’t sure and didn’t care at the moment. He was focusing on swirling his tongue around Cartman’s, sucking it hard into his own mouth, and hearing another moan. It came tenfold, and he felt triumphant, that his own kissing skills could elicit this response. 

“Fuck,” Cartman moaned as Kyle inched back, pulling Cartman’s lower lip between his teeth. His jeans were now open and Cartman’s hand was jacking him slowly, hand big and warm on Kyle’s erection. 

Kyle felt Cartman’s own cock resting against his thigh, and he made a move to reciprocate. After some maneuvers, and an intense session of Cartman pinning him to the bed with his hands and assaulting his chest and shoulder blades with his mouth, biting and dragging his teeth sharply across Kyle’s skin, they were both out of their jeans, throwing off their boxers and socks as well. Kyle found himself rolled over onto the bed, on top of Cartman as they thrust their groins together, cocks snug tightly together. Kyle sighed into the feel of it all, loving Cartman’s huge thigh between his legs, moving them together in tandem. 

“Want me to cuff you to the headboard? Fuck you the way you need it?” Cartman gritted out, his hands cupping Kyle’s ass, squeezing, rocking them together. 

I’ve never _needed_ to be fucked in my entire life, Kyle thought to himself. And then realized in this moment, Cartman’s word were 100% accurate. He did need it, and moreover, he wanted it more than anything. 

Kyle threw his head back as Cartman surged up and latched onto his neck, licking a teasing line up and down. “Yes, Goddammit, do it.” 

“Suck me first,” Cartman said, pressing the words into Kyle’s throat, vibrating against his skin. 

Kyle licked his lips and shoved Cartman backward so he was laying against the pillows. He licked at Cartman’s nipples, running his hand down the center of his chest. Cartman had a decent amount of hair, whereas Kyle practically had none. He scraped the backs of his nails through the coarse strands, moving to the other nipple which hardened under his tongue. He tugged on it, feeling Cartman’s stomach quiver under his touch, listening to the intake of breath. Cartman’s hands were on his shoulders, trying to push him down further and Kyle already knew why again. It frustrated him that Cartman wouldn’t let him explore his body the same way he explored Kyle’s. Kyle wasn’t a superficial person in that regard; he wouldn’t be here if he was. But Cartman seemed to have body issues and Kyle really didn’t want to highlight them right now when the prospect of amazing sex was on the table. 

He was just about to move lower, when Cartman let out an annoyed groan and moved to get off the bed. 

“Dude, what?” 

“Just. Wait a damn minute.” Kyle watched as he walked toward the door and killed the overhead light. Then he flopped back on the bed, and reached for the bedside lamp, leaving the room bathed only in reflection of the streetlights through the windows. 

“Better,” Cartman said, and Kyle looked at him, took in his pinched expression. He ran his hands up and down Cartman’s chest and over his sides, with purpose, hands strong and sure. Cartman groaned as he ran his tongue over his belly, just the tip skimming over his skin. He felt the flesh quiver and shake as Kyle moved lower, mouthing at his groin, nosing at the soft curls there. He cupped Cartman’s balls in his hand and heard a laugh. 

“You should suck those,” he suggested. 

Kyle grinned, taking Cartman’s cock in his hand, mouthing the base while he rolled his balls between his fingers. “Yeah, that’s a really new idea for you,” he said before licking around the base of Cartman’s cock and lapping at his balls while stroking him slowly. 

“Fuck, your mouth,” Cartman breathed, arching his hips slightly. Kyle peered up at him, took in his slackened expression, his closed eyes, the way he licked his lips almost without realization. Kyle wasn’t used to catching Cartman off-guard, watching him when he wasn’t aware of it, and for some reason that made him harden even more. He ran his tongue over the taut flesh for a few more moments before moving to Cartman’s erection, sucking him hard and fast, taking him halfway down and groaning at the feel of Cartman’s hand in his hair. 

When he pulled up and off his lips were wet and humming and Cartman looked dazed with want, tugging Kyle closer and kissing him hotly, rolling on top of him. Cartman slapped at his ass, and said, “Turn over,” in a low, rough voice. Then he was on his knees and reaching into the bedside table undoubtedly for condoms and lube. Kyle assumed a position he felt he was probably going to get very used to and then jumped at the feel of Cartman guiding his hands to the headboard and clicking the cuffs over his wrists. They were a little cold and Kyle tugged experimentally. 

“Ready for this?” Cartman said in his ear while a slick finger trailed over his crack, teasing slowly inside. Kyle gasped and spread his legs a little. It felt odd, being this vulnerable and out of control; part of him wasn’t sure if he should trust Cartman with something like this. It was increasingly hard to think that, however, when Cartman was mouthing at the shell of his ear and genuinely asking if he was okay with this. 

He titled his head back so it fell against Cartman’s shoulder while pushing back toward Cartman’s finger. 

“Yes.” 

Then Cartman pulled back and away and Kyle’s first thought was _fuck, I knew it, he’s probably gonna leave me here, cuffed to the bed, while he goes to play Mario Kart_. Except Cartman was back in a second and lowering himself onto the bed, parting Kyle’s ass and doing things with his tongue that Kyle didn’t realize he’d missed until now. 

Cartman worked him open with his tongue and his fingers while Kyle moaned and wondered how he got to this point with a guy who on a daily basis appeared to be the most self-absorbed human being on the planet. That’s apparently changed as he can pay compliments now, and pick up bar tabs, and focus on someone else’s pleasure besides his own. 

Kyle startled upon the sharp slap to his ass, his body jerking against the cuffs and instinctively backwards. He felt Cartman’s lips curl into a grin against the center of his spine. “You like that?” 

“Your questions are fucking infuriating,” Kyle gritted out, pressing up into Cartman’s hand to reveal exactly how much he liked it, as if the bastard couldn’t tell. Kyle’s dick was heavy where it bobbed against his stomach. His fingers itched to touch it and he curled his hands into a fist around the bedframe. 

The next slap made him yelp. His cock gave a vicious twitch even as his mind couldn’t believe how much he was enjoying this. Cartman’s slick fingers pressed up into him a few more times, other hand alternating slaps until he pulled away, and the telltale sound of the condom wrapper being ripped open was heard. 

It was similar to the first time, only somehow better. Kyle felt the stretch of Cartman inside him, the sting of the cuffs against his wrists as he pressed backward, the hot breath of Cartman’s mouth on his neck as he cursed softly while rolling his hips forward. Kyle pressed as far back as he could, fucking himself on every upstroke before Cartman kicked his legs apart, hoisted him onto his knees and started slamming his hips forward while placing his hands next to Kyle’s on the headboard. 

“So hot like this,” Cartman panted, licking at the nape of Kyle’s neck. Kyle’s cock was thick and heavy between his legs and he needed to come, the pressure building like a geyser. 

“Touch me,” he ordered, hoping for once in his life Cartman would listen. 

It was, of course, a ridiculous thing to wish for. Cartman’s teeth dragged along his shoulder blades as he slowed his thrusts, circling his hips. “You didn’t say the magic word.” 

Kyle circled his own hips in time with Cartman, making him moan at the way his ass was cletching around him, Cartman in to the hilt. “Touch me, you God damn motherfucker.” 

“You always did have a way with words, Kyle. If I weren’t about to come myself… you, oh fuck, you wouldn’t get off this easily… pun intended.” 

“You’re so fucking… oh God, yeah, like that,” Kyle trailed off as Cartman’s large hand wrapped around him, jerking him with purpose as he increased his thrusts, pushing Kyle against the headboard, knocking it hard into the wall. Kyle’s arms were bent, the cuffs scraping at the sensitive skin of his wrists. His mouth dropped open as he began to come, Cartman’s hand and hips never breaking their rhythm. He threw his head back against Cartman’s shoulder, cock jerking in Cartman’s hand as Cartman’s lips found his throat and placed a slow, sucking kiss. Then he felt Cartman’s own hips falter, fucking him unsteadily as Cartman cried out against his neck.

Kyle collapsed onto his stomach, sliding loose of Cartman and right into the wet spot, his arms tugging at the cuffs. Cartman lay next to him, one leg thrown over his ass. 

“Wow.” 

“No applause, please.” 

He noted Cartman sounded just as winded, though. He couldn’t even muster up a snarky retort. “Are you always this…” _Good in bed_ , he wanted to say, but couldn’t. Cartman was though, he was fucking amazing and Kyle suddenly realized why sex made people do stupid things. He could definitely get addicted to something like this. Instead he opted for, “Intense?” He looked over his shoulder at Cartman. 

His mouth open from where he was panting, and he gave a tiny grin. “Let’s just say I’ve always gone for the type of guy who wanted it like this.” 

Kyle narrowed his eyes, waiting for a punchline. “Oh? And what type is that?” 

“Twinks, Kyle. Twinks.” 

He shoved backward at the leg thrown over him. “I am _not_ a twink.” 

“Oh, you are the king of the twinks, Kyle.’

“Fucking bastard. Now get these off me,” Kyle said, voice hoarse to his own ears, into the pillow. 

Cartman groaned but must have reached for the key as in the next moment one hand and then the other were free. Kyle sighed and flopped onto his back, rubbing at his sore wrists. 

Then they heard a banging against the wall. 

“What the fuck is that?” Kyle asked.

Cartman rolled his eyes and banged back. “It’s Roger in the apartment next door, pissed at all the noise I’m sure, fucking dickwad.” Then he banged again and said loudly, “Ever so sorry, Roger, but this is a sweet piece of ass right here and I have to get my money’s worth!” 

Kyle looked at him in horror. “You fucking… Roger, I’m not a fucking whore and even if I was, this asshole couldn’t afford me!” Kyle looked at Cartman, smugly. “Sure as hell hope he’s cool with you being gay.” 

“Like I give a fuck. And anyway, with all your moaning and screaming I’m pretty sure he figured it out.” 

Cartman pulled out his pot stash and loaded up his bowl while Kyle got up for tissues. “Are you out at work?” he asked as he returned. 

Cartman blew out smoke, then offered it to Kyle. Kyle accepted, allowing Cartman to hold it for him as he took a hit. 

“I don’t hide it if it comes up, but it rarely does. Chief saw me one time chatting up a hot young thing at a bar and asked me about it. Then again the Chief has done plenty in his time. So he knows, and if the guys start talking about breasts and pussy, I don’t pretend or anything.”

Kyle nodded, impressed. 

Then he heard the music from Cartman’s iPod still playing from the next room and laughed when he heard the song. 

“’I Wanna Dance with Somebody.’ Seriously, dude? That is pretty fucking gay.” 

Cartman put the bowl down and rested on his elbow, on his side facing Kyle. “I just came in your ass, but _that’s_ gay? Tsk, tsk, you really need to get your priorities straight, Kyle.” 

“Whatever, dude, I’m racking up the blackmail material just on your music choices alone.” 

“I’m still infinitely cooler than you, Kyle. Lest we forget you’re a Jersey-born Ginger Jew.” 

Kyle flipped him off. “You should make a sign, it’ll last longer. Or better yet, print up t-shirts.” 

It was weird, lying side by side, talking while completely naked and still semi-hard. 

“There’s an idea. I’d sell a shitload.” 

“Whatever, fatass, you wouldn’t even know how to begin.” 

“I... oh, whatever. I’m too fucked-out to argue with you, Jew.”

Kyle raised his arms in triumph then yawned. “God, I wish I had off tomorrow.” 

“Ha, welcome to retail, sucker.” 

Kyle glared at him. “And what are your plans, _Detective_?” 

“Grocery shopping, laundry. Terribly exciting, try to restrain your reaction.” 

Kyle blinked at him. “God, that’s so weird.” 

“What?” 

Kyle shook his head, laughing inwardly. “That you’re like, an adult who goes food shopping and shit.” 

Cartman snorted. “I’m all ‘growed’ up. Look ma, no hands! I can even cross the street all by myself,” he drew out the last part exaggeratedly. 

Kyle shoved at his shoulder. “Fuck off, it’s just weird.” 

Cartman gave a short laugh. “Not as weird as it is running into your mom in the supermarket.” 

Kyle’s lips parted in surprise. “Oh God, seriously?” 

“All. The. Time. I think she plans it just so she can scowl at me in the aisles. Like mother, like son, eh? She never did like me.” Cartman paused. “Must’ve been that ball sucking thing,” he added, dryly. 

“Oh my God, shut up!” 

Cartman’s eyes widened, innocently. “I’m just reflecting on fond memories from my childhood, Kyle.” 

“Asshole. I remember far too much from our childhood. It isn’t healthy.” 

“On the contrary, I think me calling you a dirty girl while you sucked my balls in my imagination is very healthy memory.” 

Kyle stared at him, incredulously. “Dude. We were _eight_.” 

Cartman grinned at him cheekily. “And look how far you’ve come, Kyle. Such an expert ball sucker.”

Kyle groaned loudly. “I hate you. I hate you with everything fibre of my being.” 

Without preamble, Cartman pulled Kyle on top of him, sliding his thigh between Kyle’s legs and pressing upward so their cocks were aligned. Kyle’s cock alerted to the new pushing and touch of flesh, as Kyle watched Cartman lean in to nip at his jaw. “Why don’t you show me just how much you hate me?” 

Then his mouth was on Kyle’s neck and Kyle could do nothing but groan, press tighter against him, and nose at Cartman’s shoulder, biting over his skin as they thrust together. Cartman set their rhythm with his hands on Kyle’s ass and before long they were gasping into sweaty skin and crying out loudly as they came rutting together, the headboard clamoring against the wall from the force of their bodies. Kyle panted into Cartman’s neck until his body stopped shaking, then he rolled off him, making a face at the slickness between them on his belly. 

Cartman looked at him, satisfied and smug. “Do you want a shower?” 

He really did, but it felt too… intimate; showering in Cartman’s house. Not like fucking in his bed wasn’t but… he couldn’t really describe it, just that it made him uneasy. 

“No... I’m okay. I should just go.” 

Cartman looked at him for a second, face unreadable, and then let his gaze roam over Kyle’s stomach to where come was splattered in various places. “You really are a dirty girl.” 

Kyle laughed and reached for the tissues beside the bed, cleaning himself up and offering a few to Cartman. 

Then he started the ritual of finding his clothes, fixing himself up, while Cartman lounged on the bed naked and smoked another bowl. He offered some to Kyle, but he waved it off this time. 

Cartman followed him naked to the door and Kyle didn’t think he’d ever get used to this. He wasn’t one for casual sex, and again felt horribly odd upon leaving, but staying over just seemed beyond the realm of possibility. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted it... he hadn’t shared a bed with anyone besides Stan. The thought of sharing one with Cartman of all people seemed… odd. He’d probably roll over with his back toward Kyle, steal the covers, kick in his sleep, snore, fart. 

He didn’t know why his brain went into overdrive at Cartman’s doorstep but it seemed to be a habit. 

Cartman, apparently too wise for his own good now, noticed once again. 

“That’s it, I’m gonna stop walking you to the door like the _gentlemen_ I seriously am not if you turn into a fucking girl each time. Jesus Christ, how does your brain still work after two orgasms? All I’m thinking about is pot, brownies, and sleep.” 

“Fuck off, okay?” 

Cartman rolled his eyes. “I’ll make this easy for you before you start bleeding all over my carpet. What are you doing tomorrow night?” 

“It’s Hanukkah. You know, that thing us dirty Jews celebrate? So, my mom’s big on me having dinner home and then she mentioned something about watching a movie together as a family. I think she’s getting sentimental as she gets older.” 

Cartman was nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet, and Kyle tried not to look at his cock, which was flopping about freely. “Is it the Passion, Kyle? Oh please, please tell me it’s the Passion.” 

Kyle wanted to bang his head against the door. “No, you fucktard, it’s not the Passion. God, why do you always have to call it that, anyway? All through high school all I ever heard each year around Christmas was, ‘Can we put on the Passion? Please, I’ll join drama if we could just put on the Passion.’” 

“I still don’t understand why it couldn’t happen. I wanted to sue but my mom said she couldn’t afford the lawyer fees anymore and naturally I couldn’t ask your dad.” 

Kyle couldn’t help but laugh; it was all just so utterly ridiculous and so very Cartman. 

“Anyway, I have no idea what film she wants to watch, but yeah, those are my plans.” 

“I see.” 

Cartman didn’t look like he was about to through a hissy fit, which was an improvement. “Sunday is Ike’s birthday.. I’m gonna take him out at night, probably to Dave and Busters. If you wanted you could meet us there, like, a little later. If you promise not to grope me, that is...” 

He didn’t want to be rude, but he did need to specify he’d rather Cartman not be there the whole time. It wasn’t anything against him, just this was something he wanted to share alone with his brother. You only turned twenty-one once.

“Scouts honor,” Cartman said, seriously. Kyle didn’t believe him for a second. “What time?” 

“9:30?” 

“Cool.” Then Cartman was leaning in and kissing him hard and fast, tongue teasing against his lips. 

Kyle sucked him in briefly, then pulled back, already feeling a little breathless. “See you Sunday,” he said, turning to the door. 

As he drove home, he couldn’t understand the insistent feeling of anticipation and want that pooled in his belly or why his stomach flipped hard when he thought the word _Sunday_.

 _Ridiculous_ , he chided himself. _Fantastic sex is making you ridiculous_. 

______________________________

Kyle worked the next day, and then had dinner with his parents before exchanging gifts. His mom asked how the job hunt was going and he said it looked pretty grim. 

“Aw, Bubula, don’t get discouraged. It’s the holidays, it’s never the easiest time for job searching. Come the new year things will open up.” 

Kyle hoped so. His mom chose _The Pianist_ as their film. The only contact he had from Cartman all day was a text that read **Please watch the Passion with your family. Do it for meeee.**

To which Kyle responded **Go fold your damn laundry.**

Later that night Kenny texted him: **i may not have been the smartest kid in school but I’m not stupid. You’re totally fucking Cartman.**

Kyle’s eyes widened. He dialed Kenny’s number. “Did Cartman say something to you?” he said by way of greeting. 

Kenny howled with laughter. “No, bro, you just did.” 

“Fuck,” Kyle sighed, pinching his fingers between his nose. 

“What gives, dude?” 

“I dunno. It’s – I have no idea, man. Just don’t tell Stan, okay?” 

Kenny snorted. “I wouldn’t blow up your spot like that.”

Kyle believed him. He just didn’t want to talk about any of it right now and told Kenny as much. 

“Well, if you want to, let me know,” Kenny said, and gratefully left it at that.  
____________________________

The next day Ike snuck off in the afternoon to see his girlfriend, then came back and Kyle watched him tolerate the happy birthday singing. Then he took Ike to the Dave and Busters that was built during Kyle’s senior year of high school. 

He watched proudly as Ike ordered his first legal beer and then treated him to a game of air hockey. They played everything from Dance Dance Revolution to Ski-ball, and Kyle had lost track of time between the games, the pizza, and the drinks. 

He looked at his phone and saw it was 9:25. Shit. “Hey dude, someone’s gonna be meeting us here in a few,” Kyle said.

Ike swallowed around his mouthful of pizza and raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really? Would their first name happen to be Sugar and last name Daddy?” 

Kyle glared at him. “Cut that shit out.”

Ike smiled sweetly. “You didn’t answer the question.” 

Before Kyle could say anything he heard a throat clear and looked to his left to see Cartman. 

He was wearing a rather nice black jacket over a ridiculous One Man Wolfpack t-shirt, his winter jacket slung over his arm. “Jew,” he greeted Kyle before turning to Ike with a nod. “Little Jew. Happy Birthday.” 

Then he was sliding in next to Kyle and dumping his coat on the other side of the booth.  
Ike was practically gaping and Kyle shot him silent _shut the fuck up or you won’t live till twenty-two_ looks. 

“Hey, Cartman. Ike, you remember Eric Cartman.”

Ike blinked a few times, looking back and forth between them. “Yeah, sure. Hi.”

“Hi yourself. Haven’t been here in forever.” He reached over and grabbed a menu, his right hand gliding up Kyle’s thigh and squeezing a little. Kyle was about to get severely pissed off and jerk away, since the asshole had _promised_ , but his hand left in the next instant. Kyle hypocritically mourned the loss and thought about the action, how it seemed to be his own way of saying hello. Kyle reached out and squeezed Cartman’s right thigh in return and tried to ignore the increase in his own pulse. 

Cartman called the waitress over, ordered quesadillas and a beer for himself before looking at Ike. “And another round for the birthday boy.” 

Kyle looked at him in surprise, his mouth softening into a touched smile before he could catch himself. Cartman wasn’t looking though. Ike said thanks, and then Kyle felt a kick to his shin. He met Ike’s eyes immediately and watched as he made kissy faces at him. Kyle kicked him back, hard.

“So, whose ass do I have to kick in basketball?” Cartman said, taking a bite of his quesadilla. 

“That’d be mine, fatass.” 

Cartman looked at him, really looking for the first time that night and Kyle felt his cheeks flame. “You’re on, Jewboy.” 

Kyle snuck a glance at Ike, who was looking back and forth between them with an evil grin on his face.

Cartman asked Ike what he got for his birthday because, “Presents are the greatest thing to ever exist.” The statement had Kyle calling him a five-year old, but Ike indulged him nonetheless. That started a rather intense conversation about the best videogames out right now, seeing as Kyle bought Ike two with his discount. 

Kyle could hold his own with the conversation in terms of knowledge but not anything hands on. 

“I haven’t played a video game in probably well over six months.” 

Cartman looked at him, mouth agape. “That is tragic and you are officially the least cool person at this table. Which is a difficult task since you’re competing against another Jew.” 

“Dude, I’m adopted.”

“Whatever, you’re a Jew by default who celebrates the holidays. You are definitely, therefore, a Jew.” 

Ike just shook his head in amusement while Cartman turned back to Kyle. “We’re playing some videogames and soon. I have multi-platforms to choose from and I’ll whoop your ass in each.” 

Ike kicked him again under the table which did nothing to quell the tiny thrill he felt at Cartman making plans that weren’t completely based around sex. It felt like the few times they actually did get along as kids, which seemed to happen the most when Stan was off being apathetic or when he was with Wendy. 

“Alright, asshole, how about that round of b-ball so I can prove that you can’t kick my ass?” 

“You’re on,” he said, bounding out of the booth and toward the back near the games. Ike stood up to and Kyle pointed a finger at him. 

“Don’t say one fucking word.”

He saw Ike hold his hands up in innocence and then followed Cartman. 

Kyle won, of course. And then he won at Ski-ball. And air hockey and then the three of them went to the bowling area where Cartman actually _did_ win and proceeded to do a victory dance in the lane while everyone looked on, and Kyle wanted to drop a bowling ball on Cartman’s foot. 

He looked at Ike, who was grinning broadly. “I’m still not saying a word.” 

“Keep it that way,” Kyle gritted out while Cartman began dancing toward them and singing a victory song which consisted of the words, “I’m a bowling king and I just can’t lose, I beat these Jews, cause they ain’t kewl.”

Kyle hated that he felt a tug of amusement way down in his gut when Cartman did shit like this now. Ike on the other hand, had no problem whatsoever laughing his ass off. 

Cartman sat down next to them, took a long gulp of beer, and wiped at his forehead. “Well, this has been quite thrilling, gentlemen, but I must be off.” 

They turned in their bowling shoes, paid, and made it back to the main area, their table still how they left it. Cartman called for the waitress and paid his part of the bill while Ike ordered another beer, definitely on his way to drunk. 

“Ike, always a pleasure,” Cartman said, shaking his hand. 

Ike blinked up at him, sleepily. “You’re… a vampire,” he slurred. Kyle felt his eyes go wide and kicked Ike hard. 

Cartman’s eyebrows creased and he gave an unsure laugh. “I cannot even tell you how many times I’ve been told I sparkle. Thank you, Ike. Kyle,” he turned to face him, eyebrows raised, “definitely not a pleasure, you filthy Jew.” 

Kyle rolled his eyes and pushed his way out of the booth. “Yeah same here. Ike, don’t move, I’m going to walk our guest out.” 

“Vampire!” 

“Dear God,” Kyle muttered, walking behind Cartman and not saying anything until they made it to Cartman’s car. 

“Vampire?” Cartman turned to him, leaning up against the door, amused. 

“Because of my fucking neck. My brother isn’t stupid… he knew the second you walked in.” 

“Ahhh, thought that might be the case,” he murmured, and let one fingertip trail down Kyle’s throat. “That cool with you?” 

Kyle shrugged, his body flushing immediately at the contact. “I’d prefer him to not have details about my sex life but otherwise, sure. Not a problem.”

Cartman hmm’ed and scraped a fingernail gently down the side of Kyle’s neck, licking his lips. 

Kyle cleared his throat. “Thanks for coming. That was cool of you.”

“I didn’t actually _come_ , but you’re welcome anyway.”

Kyle shook his head. “I think you’re obsessed with sex.”

Cartman traced Kyle’s lip with the tip of his finger. “You have a convincing theory,” he said, sliding it practically inside. Kyle gave into impulse and bit down gently, loving the groan he received in response. 

Cartman took his hand away and then pulled Kyle forward between his legs. They kissed with Cartman up against the car, in the middle of the large Dave and Busters parking lot where anyone could see. Kyle sucked in a breath, feeling excitement surge through his body. Cartman kept kissing him harder, deeper, pulling back to bite at his lips and then delving in again, licking the roof of his mouth, his teeth, before Kyle stepped out of his grasp. 

“Okay, uh. So I’m gonna walk back in there. With a semi. Thank you.” 

Cartman grinned, face flushed, his own jeans tented. “I’ve succeeded in my plan. My work here is done.” 

“Bastard,” Kyle said, mouth twitching. 

Cartman got into his car and then rolled down the window. “Get going before your bro thinks I turned you.” Kyle was laughing as he pulled away. 

Back inside, Ike had his head on the table. 

“Hey. You okay?” Kyle asked, reclaiming his seat. 

“Nghh.” He lifted his head, blinking up at Kyle. “I cannot believe Cartman is the fucking sugar daddy.’ 

Kyle groaned. “Oh my God, he’s not a sugar daddy for the millionth time.” 

Ike smirked. “But you don’t deny he’s the gay vampire.”

“Fine, he’s the gay vampire, you happy? Thanks for that, by the way. You’re twenty-one, I figured you’d stop embarrassing me by now.”

Ike made kissy faces again, his eyes red and unfocused. “Sorry to embarrass you in front of your boyyyyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” 

Kyle’s never really done the dating thing where you get to know the person. Not for any long period of time, anyway. With Stan, he knew him forever and by the time they were dating there wasn’t anything knew left to explore aside from how each of them were in terms of relationships and being a couple. 

With Cartman, he still knew him, always had. It wasn’t like learning someone–but it was close. It was close because he kept getting surprised by things nearly every time they saw one another. 

But they weren’t boyfriends. And they definitely weren’t dating. 

Ike rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. “Fuck buddy, then, what the fuck ever. I keep calling Linda my fuck buddy in my head but she’s totally my girlfriend, dude. Bought me gifts and everything.” 

Kyle smiled at him, affectionately and reached out to ruffle his hair. “You’re not going to remember any of this in the morning.” 

“Totally am. Don’t worry, dude, your secret’s safe with me.” 

_Is it a secret?_ Kyle wondered to himself. It’s not like he was about to mention anything to his parents anytime soon, because no. You don’t advise your parents that you’re engaging in casual sex and since that’s all this is, there’s no real reason to mention it. As for other people… he wasn’t exactly hiding anything, not when he was just making out in the parking lot. Stan was a different story and Kyle didn’t even want to think about that. It made his stomach twist and the train of thought was ridiculous to begin with; there was nothing to tell. 

Ike was falling asleep at the table when Kyle called for the check. “Let’s get you outta here, baby bro.” 

“Not a baby,” he said in a slurred voice that was definitely half-pout. Kyle laughed and prepared himself for the process of getting Ike outside and in the car. 

Drunkenness aside, it was a good night. 

______________________

Monday brought one of those obvious mass-generated emails expressing their thanks in his job application but that he was not selected as a final candidate. They’d keep his information on file, all that jazz, Kyle had heard it before a million times when he was fresh out of college and looking for his first real job. It stung more this time because he wasn’t fresh-faced anymore; he knew the game. 

Around the same time, Cartman texted him that there was a double murder in North Park and they were sending in additional resources so he might not be around too much this week. 

“Great. Just great.” Kyle felt anxious, unsettled. He replied to Cartman, _Don’t get yourself killed_ to which the response was _awww, didn’t know you cared_. 

His body thrummed with nervous energy like a tiger in a cage. He considered asking Ike for some pot, knowing he’d have some without a doubt. 

Instead, he just cracked back down on the applications and prepared for a rather dull, uneventful week all around. 

He didn’t hear from Cartman again until the next day and tried not to examine the small bit of relief he felt at hearing his voice. 

Even if that voice wasn’t in the best of moods right now. “This fucking department is ridiculous. Honestly, it’s a shit show, I don’t even know how anything gets done.” 

Oddly enough, his complaining put Kyle more at ease than he’d felt in the last two days. “Why don’t you just tell them to fuck off or you’re going home?” 

Cartman snorted. “If only, dude, if only.” 

Cartman rarely called him ‘dude’ or ‘man’ or anything as companionable as that. 

“You’ve grown soft in your old age.” 

“Eh, bitch, I’m a few months younger than you are.” 

Kyle laughed and was struck with the harsh realization, deep in his stomach, that he liked this – he liked this a lot, liked _Cartman_ a lot and honestly, who would’ve ever thought that were possible. 

“I think we should have phone sex,” Cartman had continued, bouncing from topics faster than a tennis ball. 

Kyle was reminded of Stan’s similar offer only a few weeks ago – how he sounded like he really wanted it. But unlike Stan’s words, Cartman’s sent a thrill through him. 

He tried to play it off. “Fuck off, you’re on a job.” 

“So? I’m in my hotel room – there is such a thing as rest for the wicked, no matter what you’ve been told.” 

Kyle bit his lip, wanting to with a fierce intensity even though he never had previously. 

“Mother _fucker_!” Cartman sweared loudly, startling Kyle out of his own thoughts. 

“Dude, what?” 

“It’s my fucking pager. Jesus, just as I was getting a stiffy. I have to go.” 

Kyle felt a surge of disappointed but also desire at how capable and reliable at his job Cartman seemed to be. “Okay. Good luck.” 

“Don’t need it. Maybe I’ll call you later and tell you all the things I want to do to you.” 

Kyle grinned and trailed his fingers down over his belly. “Sure, fatass.” 

“Later, Jew.” 

Kyle found himself in a good mood for the rest of the night.  
His phone buzzed on his bedside at around one in the morning. 

**Sorry, another body found. I’m beat. Raincheck?**

Kyle rubbed at his eyes and typed back **sure. Get some sleep.**

 **Night**  
________________________

Kyle worked the next day, hung out with his family for Hanukkah and dealt with random texts from Cartman along the lines of:

 **fucking shoot me**

**no seriously, do it**

**why bring me fucking in if I’m not allowed to do my motherfucking JOB?**

**Do you know who I hate more than Jews? The fucking FBI.**

Kyle shook his head at each one, but rather liked being an outlet to Cartman’s frustration. 

“They’re bringing the damn Feds in tomorrow. So I’ll probably be out of here soon,” Cartman said that night while Kyle multi-tasked on the computer, browsing job sites. 

“What are they saying?” 

“Possible serial killer. Of course the FBI wants their hands all over it. Fucking bureaucratic bullshit, I can’t even. Would I get fired if I sent them a bomb threat?”

Kyle laughed, a little uneasy, not entirely sure Cartman was kidding; you never knew with him. “Pretty sure they’d throw you in jail, dude.” 

“Huh. Might be worth it if it gets me out of my job.” 

Kyle frowned, closed his browser and flopped down onto his bed. “You really don’t like it there, do you?” 

“Have I been too vague up until this point?” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Yes, Kyle, as I’ve said, it’s a shit show. I’ve been toying with the idea of opening my own PI firm...”

Kyle sat up with interest. “Seriously?” 

“Well, not _seriously_. I’ve mentioned it to Craig... and talked with another guy whose been there forever as to what it would take to really pursue it. Wouldn’t really need much of a staff.” 

“Nah, just probably a bookkeeper, someone to handle clientele and shit.” 

Cartman groaned. “Shit, I’d probably have to hire a Jew, wouldn’t I?” 

“Hate to break it to you,” Kyle said, with mock severity. 

“Goddamnit,” Cartman swore, but Kyle could hear the amusement in his tone. “You should scope out your Jew messageboards for me. Put the word out.” 

“Jew messageboards,” Kyle repeated flatly, stretching his legs out further on the bed. “Really, Cartman?” 

“Hey, there’s this whole sub-culture of you lot that normal people just don’t know of.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“And you should have my dick in your mouth.” 

Kyle’s body tingled at the words and he guessed their conversation was finished. 

“Fine, let’s try this,” Kyle said, already rubbing at his cock through his jeans. 

It was... weird. He let Cartman do most of the work and more than once said, “My parents are totally going to hear me,” to which Cartman responded. “Should gag your ass.” 

Ironically, that just made Kyle moan even more and before he knew it he was coming hard in his hand to Cartman’s low voice saying how hot he must look right now, how badly he wanted to eat his ass and the fuck him until he couldn’t move. Kyle groaned and gasped out incoherent words and pleas, and somehow with just that Cartman followed him over the edge. 

He lay there panting, hearing the answering sharp breaths in his ear and couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at doing this with Cartman when he’d laughed it off with Stan. 

“That was hot,” Cartman said, still breathing hard. 

“It was,” Kyle admitted. 

“Okay now I just wanna smoke and go to sleep.” 

Kyle’s eyes widened as he reached for some tissues. “You so did not bring your weed on a murder investigation.” 

“Oh, I so did.” 

“Dude, you’re going to get fired.” 

“And then I’ll join you on the unemployment lines.” 

“Oh, joy,” Kyle rolled his eyes. 

Cartman yawned loudly in his ear. “I should go. I’ll let you know when I’ll be back.” 

It all felt… boyfriendy. Like when Stan was away on a job site and would tell Kyle he’d call him when arrived in and Kyle would have dinner ready for them. 

“Sure, dude,” he said, trying to sound bored by the prospect. 

Cartman paused for a second and Kyle listened to him breathing. “Wish me luck with the Feds.” 

Kyle felt his throat bob. “Thought you didn’t need any luck.” 

“Doesn’t hurt.” He could hear the tiny grin in his voice. “Night, Jew.” 

He was gone before Kyle could say anything else.  
____________________

The entire week, Kyle barely found any jobs to put out resumes to as Christmas Eve was Saturday which meant no one was really doing much work. His mom was probably right when she said things wouldn’t pick up until the new year but Kyle felt anxious and frustrated, just wanting to restart his life again. This thing with Cartman wasn’t exactly helping. He was getting to that point where he looked forward to hearing from someone, anticipation a steady fixture in his gut. He never expected to have those types of feelings for Cartman but they were here and becoming pretty unavoidable. 

And then there was the entire sex thing. Kyle was never one to care much about the act. It was utter irony that he was one of the ones singled out as a sex addict in fourth grade when he still thinks about sex probably less than most girls. He likes it well enough but he never felt he _needed_ it. He and Stan were hot and heavy for the first few years and it was new and exciting but it tapered off rather quickly. 

Cartman, however, made him feel things he never thought he could feel. His entire body felt on fire when Cartman touched him. Whenever they were in the same vicinity, all Kyle wanted to do was throw him down on the nearest surface and climb on top of him. He could feel the sexual energy between them, almost palpable. Maybe that was the way it was always supposed to be, but Kyle had never felt anything like this before. He felt crazed and thought maybe he was a sex addict after all. 

He wanted to talk about it with someone, but Stan was definitely out; Kyle was probably going to have to tell but there was telling him and _telling_. Discussing his sex life in detail with his little brother was also a no; it was embarrassing enough that he knew. 

So that only left one option. 

Kenny was probably the most sexual person Kyle had ever known. He was open, shameless, and always happy to give advice and even tips. Although he normally went for the fairer sex, he’d been known to blow a guy here and there. 

They met at “their bar” in Denver. Kenny was already two beers deep when Kyle arrived. 

“’Sup, broseph.” 

“Not much, man.” 

Kenny eyed him speculatively, his hoodie nearly covering his eyes. “But somethin’, tho. You said it was urgent.” 

Kyle got the bartender’s attention and ordered a Corona light. “Not, like, life or death. Uh. So, this thing with Cartman.” 

“Oh you mean the fact that you’re getting’ down and dirty with the fatass?” he smirked. 

“Uh, yeah, ‘bout that.” 

Kenny patted him on the back. “I’m not surprised, dude. Fight or fuck – age old tale, you know?”

Kyle blinked at him. “Dude, _I’m_ surprised.” 

“For someone so smart, you’re dense sometimes, yo. Besides, Cartman never shuts up about you, even _before_ you started doing the nasty.” 

Kyle was momentarily distracted by the arrival of his beer but the words made his head whip to the side to look at Kenny.

“What are you talking about?” 

Kenny was munching on some pretzels from the bar as he talked, “When he’d call me up it was always, ‘The Jew still with the hippie? Are they gonna adopt little Jew babies?’ He always pretended not to care how you were when I answered, but I knew better, man.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me? You never even said you two were in contact.” 

Kenny shrugged. “Why would I? You couldn’t stand him, man. I just assumed he was another part of South Park you wanted to forget.”

It was funny that Kyle almost wanted to object to that statement. Even when he thought he couldn’t stand Cartman, he still got a thrill from their interactions, thrived on their opposition but also the times where they connected. He wasn’t sure what to make of Cartman checking up on him. 

He must have been lost in thought because Kenny said, “Dude, you with me? What do you wanna talk about?” 

He shook his head and took a large gulp of beer. “Right, uh. Can we get a table in the back?” 

Kenny rolled his eyes. “Joe, just keep the Stella’s coming my way, okay? We’re movin’ to the back cuz this one’s a bitch.” 

“Shut up, dude!” 

“See what I mean? A total bitch.” 

Kyle pushed Kenny towards the table, who just cackled the whole way there.

“Okay, we’re nice and secluded. Spill it.” 

Kyle picked at the label of his beer. “Alright, so. This thing with Cartman… he’s. I mean, have you ever had like, really incredible sex with someone who just frustrates the hell of out of 90% of the time?” 

“Hate sex? Yes, Kyle, I’ve had hate sex. Hate sex is aces.” 

“It’s not... it’s not exactly that... It’s. I dunno.” Kyle lowered his voice and leaned closer. “He’s amazing. He fucks like he fights.” 

Kenny started laughing again. “He fights like a bitch! Wendy beat the shit out of him a million times throughout school. You’re saying he fucks like a bitch? Weak, dude.” 

“Ugh, you know what I mean. Like...verbal fights... like he uses all the antagonism we have against each other and just... puts it all into fucking me.”

“Mmm... so what’s the problem?” 

“There isn’t one. I’ve just never felt this way about sex before.” 

Kenny was silent for a second. “Then maybe you haven’t been having very good sex.” 

Kyle shook his head. “Sex with Stan was good. Sex with Cartman is just... different. It’s… filthy.” 

Kenny grinned, bearing his teeth. “Filthy, huh? Like, what? Whips? Chains? Ball gags?” 

“Dude. No, like, I mean we’ve used handcuffs and stuff. And we’ve had phone sex and ... he just... he says things to me in bed that no one ever has, he fucks me hard and fast and makes me come so hard.…”

Kenny rolled his eyes. “Man, this is all so vanilla. What did you even do with Stan?” 

“We just... did it.” 

“What, in your sleep? Shit, it sounds to me you’re just with someone who is in tune to your body and making you come until you shake, until you’re wrecked.” 

The words made Kyle flush, heat pooling in his groin as he recalled the times Cartman made him do just that. “Yeah... But, Stan paid attention to my body, mostly, just... it usually wasn’t... intense? I don’t know, dude.” 

“Look, you’re having amazing sex. Amazing sex is awesome. You can have ‘good’ sex and be in love and you can have fantastic hot sex and not give a shit about the person. Sadly, that’s usually the way it goes.” 

“I give a shit about him,” Kyle blurted out, the words spilling from his lips without his consent. 

Kenny whistled. “Dude, you’re totally fucked.”

Kyle couldn’t agree more.  
________________________

Cartman continued to send him dirty and flirtatious text messages, and the more Kyle thought about, the more it did feel the way the beginning of dating someone new was supposed to – complete with excitement and trembling desire. Or maybe this was just how it felt to be a fuck buddy with someone. 

Kyle wouldn’t exactly know, however, and he didn’t like feeling out of his element. Stan may have had more experience than him, but he always felt on rather equal footing. With Cartman, it was different. Kyle was pretty more he’d tried everything and more than once; he felt – a bit out of his element yet excited at the same time. 

He resolved to just go with the flow, like he’d told himself from the start of all this, like _Kenny_ told him to do, but Cartman had a way of throwing him off guard. Like Cartman asking what he was doing tomorrow. It was Christmas Eve and Kyle’s family didn’t celebrate, but he was used to doing so with Stan. Besides, he always did care about Christmas more. He told Cartman his family was going into Denver to see a matinee show. 

“They had these tickets before everything with me.” He was sitting at his desk, calculating his current monthly income while holding the phone with his other hand. 

“Are they seeing _Jesus Christ Superstar_?” 

Kyle sighed internally. “No, Cartman, they aren’t seeing _Jesus Christ Superstar_.”  
“Why must you continue to destroy my soul, you heartless little twink? No _Passion_ , no _Superstar_. Honestly, it makes me sick.” 

“You have my deepest condolences. I’ll buy you a sympathy basket.” 

“So just what are they seeing?” 

“ _Les Miserables_.” 

“Booooring.” 

“It’s not boring, you uncultured prick.” 

“Cry me a river, Broadway boy.” 

“I guess you don’t like any theater then,” Kyle said annoyed, more at the figure he just came up with on paper rather than the conversation he was having. 

“I like _Phantom_ because it’s fucked up. That’s about it.” 

“Well, that’s better than nothing.” 

“Glad I have the Broflovski stamp of approval. Anyway, douche, I think I should come over tomorrow and fuck you in your bed.” 

Kyle dropped his pen. “Yeah, I think you should,” he replied, voice thick. 

“Been a fucking week. I’m climbing the walls.” 

_You could fuck anyone you want, though_ , Kyle thought. It was true – they were just fooling around.

He didn’t say so out loud, though. “What time?” 

“Seeing my mom around five so early? Twelve or one?” 

“How about 12:30?” 

“Always such an ass. 12:30 it is, bitch.” 

They hung up and Kyle noticed he had a new text message. 

**Christmas is going to be weird without you**

It was from Stan. Kyle sighed and rubbed his face over his hands. It was true but then again, Stan chose this. It wasn’t exactly fair for him to throw out texts such as this that made his heart twist even though he knew that going back would only mean never going forward. 

**Yeah. Your parents going out to see you?**

**Yeah. They want to take me and Kenny out for dinner. Karen’s coming in from New York, too.**

**Nice. Love you.**

**You too.**

Kyle threw his pen across the room, suddenly angry at Stan and at himself for feeling guilty when he has no reason to.  
“Fuck this.” 

He texted Cartman. **Come at 12. Want you as soon as possible.**

 **Horny slut. Fuck yes** , was the immediate response. Kyle let out a stuttering breath, already feeling better.  
_____________________________

Cartman arrived at noon on the dot. Kyle had to stop himself from licking his lips when he opened the door. It was ridiculous how much he wanted to jump him. Cartman’s cheeks were rosey and he smirked at Kyle, closing the door behind him as they stood in the living room. 

Kyle’s eyes trailed down his body, taking in the t-shirt he could see beneath his jacket. 

He blinked up at Cartman. “You’ve got to be joking with that shirt.”

“It’s Christmas, Kyle. I never joke about Christmas.” 

His shirt was green and featured Santa’s head thrown back, face contorted with pleasure and the words “Santa Claus is Coming.” 

“I honestly can’t even bare to look at you right now.” 

“Your dilated pupils tell a different story. Detective, Kyle. Don’t forget that.” 

Kyle laughed and started to move in when he noticed Cartman was holding a bag. He nodded to it. “What’s that?” 

Cartman’s cheeks seemed to grow even redder, muscle jumping in his jaw. “Present, here,” he said, nearly throwing Kyle the bag. 

Kyle looked at it, eyes wide. “Dude, what the hell?” 

Cartman scratched at the back of his neck. “Whatever, you’re like, a Jew on Christmas, that’s the saddest thing ever. And gifts are my favorite thing in this world behind KFC so just take one.”

Kyle was speechless. He took out the box and rolled it around in his hand, dropping the bag to the floor. It wasn’t wrapped; Kyle’s not sure he’d still be breathing if it was. He looked up at Cartman. “I didn’t get you anything, fuck. I feel like a douche.”

Cartman waved him off. “Whatever. Would I expect less from a heartless bastard like you?” 

Kyle snorted. “Are you sure you’re the same person who used to demand presents at other people’s birthday parties?” 

Cartman rolled his eyes. “You permanently live in the past, Kyle. Now open your fucking gift before I take it back.” 

“Alright, okay!” Kyle yelled, opening the box. His mouth fell open. “Is this…?” 

“The One Ring, yes. You were such a dork for that movie.” 

Kyle’s eyes jerked up. “Dude, so were you.” Then he looked back down. It was the ring, well, a replica anyway, on a black rope necklace. 

“Wow, dude.” 

“It’s to go with the rest of the gold already hanging around your neck.” 

Kyle looked up at him, chest a bit tight. Cartman might be trying to play it off as another Jew joke but it felt oddly significant. 

“Thank you. Seriously.”

Cartman rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Don’t get all weepy on me.” 

Kyle put the box down on the end table near the couch and then walked into Cartman’s space, leaning up to kiss him. Cartman grabbed him immediately, turning the kiss rough, desperate and wet in the span of a second. He lifted Kyle off the floor like he weighed nothing and backed them against the wall near the stairs, mouths biting and tongues tangling. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” Kyle panted when Cartman started mouthing at his jaw. 

“Maybe I want you right here.” 

Kyle groaned at the drag of Cartman’s hardening cock against his own. “Not on your fucking life. This is my parents’ house.”

Cartman’s breath was hot on his neck as he bit at the skin. “Such a prude.” 

Kyle wrapped his legs further around Cartman, sneakers digging into the swell of his ass. “Take me upstairs and I’ll prove you wrong.” 

Cartman did, literally carrying him over his shoulder while Kyle protested and kicked at his back the entire time. He was dumped unceremoniously onto the bed, and watched Cartman grin down at his affronted expression. 

“You’re never doing that again,” Kyle said seriously.

Cartman stripped himself of his shirt and crawled onto the bed between Kyle’s legs, lifting Kyle’s own shirt up and off and knocking him flat on his back, kissing him hotly. “Shut up,” he mumbled without malice against Kyle’s lips. 

He cradled Kyle’s jaw in his hand as he kissed him, owning his mouth. Kyle loved the feel of Cartman’s hand there, holding him in place. He groaned into it loudly and kissed back harder as his hands trailed over Cartman’s ass. The sunlight was streaming in the windows, the door was open, and it all felt elicit and dirty. 

Once naked, and after some rather enthusiastic blowjobs, Kyle straddled Cartman, closing his eyes at the feel of his hands all over his back and shoulders. Cartman growled against his neck. “Want you to ride me.” 

Kyle shivered at the words. “Yeah.” He fumbled for the lube and condoms Cartman so helpfully placed on the bedside table. 

He reclaimed his position and started lubing up Cartman’s dick, when Cartman caught his hands. “Other way, turn around.” 

Kyle raised an eyebrow but did so, handing Cartman the lube and condom. “You have an issue with my face, fatass?” he asked, watching him over his shoulder, braced on his hands. 

“More that I have a thing for your ass. Want to watch as it takes my huge cock, again and again.” 

Kyle tried to laugh but it was difficult when Cartman was pressing slick fingers inside him. “Ever so modest.” 

Cartman snorted. “Like you’ve had bigger.” 

Kyle hadn’t, that was true. Stan wasn’t small or anything but he definitely wasn’t as big as Cartman and certainly didn’t have the girth. 

“You’re not a porn star,” Kyle retorted, even as he shamelessly rocked backward on Cartman’s two fingers. 

“No, I just fuck like one.” 

“You should grow some self-esteem, I mean, seriously, it’s lacking.” 

Cartman shifted upward, his mouth suddenly right at Kyle’s ear. “I’m gonna make you scream as I fuck you in your childhood bed.”

Kyle shuddered hard, cock twitching between his legs. 

“Come on, sit on me,” Cartman urged, biting at the back of his neck and tugging on his hips. He did, easing down, now completely accustomed to that initial burning first slide of Cartman inside him, stretching him wide and filling him so good. 

Once Kyle was in to the hilt, Cartman’s hands rested low on his hips, and Kyle just let loose, rising and falling on Cartman’s dick, biting his own lip. Cartman’s hands slid up his chest, over his nipples, down his flank and over his cock, jerking him roughly while he groaned out things like, “You’re such a dirty boy, dirty little boy in his mommy and daddy’s house, riding my cock like you were born to do it.” 

Kyle let out a shuddering breath, surging upward into Cartman’s fist and then back down onto his dick. The words had his dick leaking and he couldn’t even pretend to be offended.  
“Fuck, I always thought about this,” Cartman said as he took hold of Kyle’s hips and thrust upward, hard and fast.

Kyle could barely think but still heard himself stuttering out, “W-what?"

“Fucking you in your room,” and Cartman sounded wrecked, voice thready, his hands slick as they flew over Kyle’s cock. 

Kyle couldn’t process the thought that Cartman wanted him back in school. Instead he just screwed his eyes shut and slammed himself down harder, crying out loudly and coming all over Cartman’s fist. Cartman let out a guttural cry and pushed Kyle forward, fucking him on his hands and knees in quick, jerky thrusts as his mouth trailed up and down back, open-lipped and perfect. 

Kyle squeezed his ass around Cartman and felt as he jerked inside him. “Yeah, fuck yeah,” Cartman breathed. 

Then Cartman was sliding out of him and pulling Kyle backward, kissing his shoulderblade, his chest pressed up against Kyle’s back. 

Kyle’s chest was splattered with come and he could feel lube on the blanket beneath him. “Seriously, did you have to make such a mess?” Kyle groaned. 

“Yes, I did.” And then he stripped off the condom, tied it up and tossed it onto the carpet. 

Kyle looked back at him, incredulously, then in the direction of condom. “Dude, seriously?” 

“Would you rather it stay in the bed?” 

“I’d rather it go in the garbage!” 

“How about thank you for the awesome fuck? No thank you?” 

Kyle sighed and rested his head back on Cartman’s shoulder. “You should be thanking me. I did most of the work.” 

“I still can’t get over how insolent you are after sex,” Cartman said, then proceeded to roll on top of Kyle, pinning him with his arms and covering him with his full weight. “Can’t breathe asshole,” Kyle said but he laughed through it. Cartman kissed him and he forgot all about the mess. 

That was until the come on his stomach started sticking to the hair on Cartman’s chest. “God, I feel disgusting,” Kyle muttered while Cartman was paying particular attention to his clavicle, sucking a bruise there. At least his clothes covered it. 

“Mmm, just the way you like it,” Cartman said, biting him. 

“You are under some serious misconceptions about me.” 

“Shhh, don’t ruin the fantasy.” 

After a few more minutes of making out, Cartman announced he wanted a shower. They hadn’t done this yet but Kyle allowed it and threw on a clean pair of boxers as he walked Cartman down the hall and to the bathroom. Unlike Cartman he didn’t wander around his house naked. 

Cartman got under the stream while Kyle brushed his teeth. Just as Kyle was finishing he heard the shower door open and then watched in the mirror as Cartman came forward, grabbed him and pulled him backward. 

Kyle sputtered under the water while Cartman just laughed. “Bastard! I just put these _on_!” He motioned down to his boxers. 

Cartman crowded him against the wall of the shower, hair and body dripping wet and fucking amazing. “Big deal, you needed a shower anyway. And maybe I still wanted you naked.” 

He looked up, blinking the water out of his eyes. “I am _not_ letting you fuck me in my parents’ shower, dude. That is crossing a fucking _line_

“Mmm, okay, then. Explain this to me,” he said before cupping Kyle through his drenched boxers, feeling his rock-hard erection. 

Kyle flushed and blamed it on the heat of the shower. “It’s residual wood,” Kyle said, firmly, and then watched as Cartman laughed. A genuine, loose, carefree belly laugh that lit up his entire face. It made Kyle return it in earnest. 

“Well played, Jew," Cartman said, still laughing, and then sunk to his knees and mouthed Kyle through the boxers before pulling him out and sucking him hard and deep, without preamble. 

Kyle came for a second time, head back against the wall and hand in Cartman’s wet hair. He kissed Cartman afterward, and jerked him off until he was panting against Kyle’s lips as he came. 

They dried themselves off, dressed, and ended up on Kyle’s couch playing Mario Kart while Cartman bitched some more about the case he was on. 

“So, you’re done with it then?”

“Yeah, just have the final debriefings and shit but it’s all the Feds now. I was the one who said there would be another body found, no one fucking believed me. I _know_ the inner workings of a psychos mind, Kyle. And then boom, it happens, and I get no fucking respect – just get torn off the damn case.” 

“That’s fucking bullshit, dude. “

“Thank you! Someone who sees it my way.” 

Then Cartman proceeded to run Kyle off the road in the game. 

They played a few rounds, ordered pizza, made out on the couch much to Kyle’s protests and by the time they looked at the clock again it was time for Cartman to leave. 

“You’re a very hospitable Jew, even though it’s Christmas,” Cartman said as they stood at the door. 

“You’re just saying that because I gave you my ass.” 

“Merry Christmas to me,” Cartman said cheekily, kissing Kyle once more and walking out to his car.  
__________________________

Kyle figured maybe this was his life now: work, apply for jobs, and fuck Cartman. However, this week added a different element – they did a lot more than just fuck. Nearly every night he either found himself at Cartman’s place where they played _Rock Band_ or _Grand Theft Auto_ or _LA Noir_ (to which Kyle just rolled his eyes and ate popcorn and watched Cartman try to prove he was indeed the best detective there was). They fooled around every night but sometimes it wasn’t until after pizza and gaming and sometimes it was just making out on the couch and coming in their jeans. Those nights Kyle felt like a teenager except he never had the opportunity to do that stuff back then. 

Other times they went out with Craig, who would look between them at times like he completely knew what was up. Kyle somewhat wondered if Cartman said anything. He would imagine not, taking on the attitude of its no one’s business but his own, but he could also picture them driving around on jobs together while Cartman waxed rhapsodic on Kyle’s “sweet little ass.”

On Friday Kyle was working a rare night shift but picked up his phone anyway. 

“What are your plans for New Year’s?” Cartman said. 

Kyle blinked, took the phone away from his ear and looked at the screen. No, it was definitely Cartman. “Uh. No plans.” 

“Good, don’t make any. I’ll pick you up at four. Bring a change of clothes.” And then he hung up, and Kyle stared into space until a customer waved a hand in front of his face. 

Kyle used to always do the New Year’s thing with Stan. Their tradition was a concert each year and they’d travel for it if they had to. One year they ended up in New York seeing My Morning Jacket at Madison Square Garden, ringing in the New Year with thousands of other fans and music while they kissed in the crowd. They never did see Times Square but it didn’t matter. 

This year Stan told him he and Kenny were going to see Phish in Phoenix. Kyle wasn’t going to lie that it hurt that Stan was keeping up the concert tradition without him, even if it was just with Kenny. 

He had no idea what Cartman had planned for them but found he was anticipating it nonetheless. 

He saw Cartman pull up in front of his house and headed down the stairs with a messenger bag over one shoulder and told his parents he was going out. 

“You’re going out an awful lot lately, Kyle.” He was sure she didn’t mean to sound like a mother judging a teenager but those words really couldn’t come out any other way. 

Kyle shrugged. “Just hanging out with old friends.” 

“Alright... just be careful, Kyle, there’s always crazies out on the road tonight.” 

_I’m probably with one_ , he thought to himself but promised her anyway. 

“Where we going?” Kyle asked as he got into the car, taking in Cartman’s styled hair, the curls that were gelled, his black jacket, the slight bit of stubble on his face. 

“That’s for me to know, bitch,” Cartman grinned, putting the car in drive. Kyle wanted to climb into his lap right here and now. 

He did a double take when they pulled up to a roadside motel just on the outskirts of town. He looked at Cartman. “Seriously?” 

“You’re a very ungrateful Jew,” he said, getting out of the car and hoisting a bag from the backseat along with him. 

The check-in clerk raised an eyebrow at them but said nothing, not even when giving Cartman the key to a room entitled The Love Shack. 

“I cannot believe this,” Kyle muttered in the elevator, and then again when he took in the vibrating bed, mirrored ceiling, and heart-shaped tub. 

Cartman dumped his bag onto the floor and bounced onto the bed. 

“This is utterly ridiculous,” Kyle said, placing his bag down in front of the TV. 

“I wanted to see how the lower class lived for a bit,” Cartman said, stretching his arms over his head on the bed, which caused his jacket and shirt to ride up. 

“I’m surprised you just didn’t ask Kenny,” Kyle deadpanned, tearing his eyes away from the pale flash of skin. 

“This is true. He probably has a discounted rate at this place.” 

Then Kyle wasn’t saying anything else because Cartman pushed himself off the bed and kissed him, rough and fast while Kyle’s hands came up to scratch at the back of his neck. 

“Bet the hippie would have taken you here unironically,” Cartman breathed against his neck, causing Kyle to shiver. 

“He probably would have,” Kyle responded, fingers clenching around Cartman’s shoulder blades. 

Cartman laughed. “That’s the difference between us,” and licked a slow line up Kyle’s throat. 

_One of about ten million_ , Kyle thought to himself. 

“You wanna get in that tub now or later?” Cartman asked around the earlobe caught between his teeth. 

And then it blindsided him, and that fact itself was ridiculous as Kyle’s not a moron who is the last to realize things. Apparently this time he was, though, too distracted about where they were going and then the room itself to realize that they were _here together_ in a _motel room_. 

Kyle cleared his throat and tried to sound nonchalant or at least not like the world’s biggest idiot. “I don’t care… we have this room for the whole night then?”

Cartman pulled back to look at him, eyes dark. He traced Kyle’s bottom lip with his thumb. “Yeah. Until 4pm tomorrow if we want.” 

“Oh,” Kyle said dumbly. 

Cartman tilted his chin up and leaned in closer. “I plan to literally fuck you into next year and then some. If that’s alright with you.” 

Kyle felt his breathing hitch and his cock jerk in his pants. He flicked his tongue over Cartman’s thumb, delighting in the sharp intake of breath. “Yeah, no complaints here.” 

“Good. Dinner first, let’s go.” Kyle had no choice to follow Cartman out the door, overtly aware that he was being wined and dined and that this was the most planned out thing they’d ever done. 

Cartman didn’t take him to a bar or a chain restaurant. Instead, he took him to a small Italian place a few miles up the road and Kyle kept pinching himself to make sure this was real life. He considered asking Cartman if he was a shapeshifter but realized he’d just be lied to. He wondered if this was all some colossal joke. Maybe Cartman had cameras set up in the room and was going to broadcast their fucking on the internet and call him the horny Jew slut or something – and like, make money off it or use it for some other nefarious plot. All of these things seemed more feasible than what was really happening – those things were the Cartman he knew; he’d expect nothing else. This guy, though... he had no idea who this guy was. This was someone who was currently leading him into a restaurant where he had _reservations for two_ and where the tables actually had tablecloths, not to mention candles. 

“They do a New Year’s prefix,” Cartman said as they sat down and the words sounded comfortable on his tongue, like he’d done this before. 

“Sounds great,” Kyle smiled at him, genuine and open and he noticed something like surprise in Cartman’s eyes before he returned the smile. It was a little dim and his gaze darted away from Kyle but it was a smile nonetheless. 

_This is a date_ , Kyle thought to himself. _This is a date and I’m surprisingly cool with that_.

They ordered a bottle of Chianti. Cartman got lasagna while Kyle ordered chicken marsala. Conversation ranged from politics and current television shows to favorite holiday films and early super bowl predictions. They argued about nearly every topic, drawing raised eyebrows from the couples next to them. 

“It’s how we make love,” Cartman said to them in a sickeningly sweet patronizing voice as he bated his eyes. 

The couple flushed red and went back to their food. 

Kyle shook his head. “You’re unreal.” 

Cartman leaned closer, over the candle. “I’ll show you just how unreal I am back at the motel.” He said it loud enough for the couple to definitely hear which caused Kyle to start flushing as well. Despite the audience, the words turned him on. 

“Where’s the check?” he asked, voice thick and eyes suddenly hazy with want. Cartman smirked at him and raised an arm for it. 

Cartman shoved a credit card inside before Kyle could protest so he decided to keep his mouth shut this time. Cartman looked surprised that Kyle wasn’t about to be indignant regarding paying his own way, but he didn’t say thing. 

Back at motel, Cartman was on him as soon as the elevator doors closed and Kyle gave back as good as he got, sucking Cartman’s tongue into his mouth and palming at his ass through his jeans. 

They stumbled through the door and onto the bed, still in their clothes and shoes. Cartman left him on the bed, ordering Kyle to take his shirt off while he retrieved some items from his bag along with a bottle of champagne. 

Kyle’s eyes widened. “You are completely cheesy.” 

Cartman set the champagne down on the nightstand and stripped off his own shirt before flipping a switch on the bed and climbing on next to Kyle. 

“Oh my God,” Kyle said in horror as the bed started vibrating beneath them. 

Cartman laughed and tugged Kyle down on top of him, their bare chests brushing together. 

“Hold on, I wanna keep the TV on for the countdown and shit.” 

“Who’s the cheesy one now?” Cartman asked, rolling his eyes as Kyle reached for remote. “Besides, it’s not for a couple of hours.” 

Kyle flicked his tongue at Cartman’s lips, teasingly. “I hope to be too pre-occupied to remember,” he said, throatily. 

Cartman groaned and kneaded his beneath his large palms. “Good point.” 

They came the first time 69’ing on their sides while the bed vibrated beneath them, providing additional simulation. Then Cartman suggested they try out the tub while drinking champagne. Kyle rolled his eyes but indulged him. They lounged in it for a time, making fun of the bands that were performing on TV and naturally Ryan Seacrest. Kyle ended up in Cartman’s lap and soon they were kissing frantically, water splashing over the sides. “You’re a fucking addiction,” Cartman breathed, sliding his wet fingers down Kyle’s ass and teasing his hole. 

“Does that mean you’re giving me up for New Year’s?” Kyle teased, grinding down against him. 

“Do I look fucking stupid?” he said, dragging his teeth down Kyle’s throat. 

“Well...” Kyle started and then yelped at the slap to his ass and the fingers that pushed inside. 

“Fuck you,” Cartman said lightly. 

Kyle rocked backward onto his fingers. “Yeah, I think you should.”

They dried off but Kyle threw towels on the bed anyway. Cartman crawled between his legs and sucked him off again, then moved his mouth lower. Kyle’s head fell back and his lips parted on a breathless sigh. He parted his legs further, delighting when Cartman took his thighs in his hands roughly and dove in, his tongue pointed and sure against his flesh. 

“God, yes,” Kyle moaned, opening his eyes to watch. Cartman’s eyes were closed, his face screwed tight in mixture of concentration and pleasure. “Fuck, don’t stop.” 

Cartman tongue teased at him, the barest flicker against his quivering flesh. “Want to fuck you, though.”

Kyle shivered and reached to push his head down. “In a minute... Just… keep on, oh fuck.” 

Kyle stroked at his own cock while Cartman’s tongue worked him over, pushing in deep around the ring of muscle. Kyle still couldn’t believe he went this long without this in his life. He never wanted it to end. 

It did eventually, and Cartman crawled up to kiss him. Kyle flinched, expecting the worst, but he didn’t really taste anything other than Cartman’s own breath. 

Then he was climbing over Kyle’s body and reaching for the nightstand. Kyle watched as he slid what appeared to be a rubber cock ring over his erection. 

Kyle stared at it. “Doesn’t that keep you from coming?” 

Cartman rolled his eyes. “Common misconception. Or maybe the ones that go around the scrotum do, I dunno. Most, however, just keep you hard and make your orgasms even more intense.” He trailed his fingers over Kyle’s stomach and chest as he talked. “You never wore one?” 

Kyle shook his head. Cartman crawled onto his hands and knees and licked at Kyle’s lips. “I don’t wanna stop fucking you all night,” he said, voice like gravel. 

Kyle felt his toes shake and pre-come leak from his cock. Cartman pulled Kyle’s bottom lip between his teeth and continued, “I’m gonna fuck your ass, and come, and then just keep on fucking you. You want that?” 

Kyle’s entire body felt boneless and he didn’t answer, just grabbed Cartman by the hair and crushed their lips together, bruising and desperate. 

They started on their sides, a torturously slow pace. Cartman felt impossibly big inside him, harder than he’d ever felt him before. It was different, fucking with condoms again. He and Stan hadn’t used them in years and Kyle found himself wondering what it would be like to feel Cartman bare inside him. It was a reckless, foolish thought that he had no intention on seeing through but nevertheless he bit his lip, tipped his head backward onto Cartman’s shoulder, and imagined. Cartman’s mouth found the juncture of his neck, his hand wrapped around Kyle’s body to jerk his cock. 

“Feel so fucking good, so damn tight even with me fucking you on the regular.” 

Kyle let out an unintelligible sound and rocked back against him. “Faster, come on.”

Cartman stilled his hips with his other hand. “No, I wanna make you squirm.” 

“Motherfucker,” Kyle breathed, pushing back as much as he could, but Cartman wouldn’t give him in an inch, just fucked him in to the hilt, slowly circling his hips without thrusting. 

He kept it up for long minutes until Kyle was blinking sweat out of his eyes and maddened by the feel of Cartman teasing his prostate with every motion and kissing his lips until they were swollen and raw. He looked at the mirror on the ceiling, watching as their bodies moved together and a few times caught Cartman’s eye in it, taking in his flushed face and wild-eyed expression. 

Finally, he pushed Kyle forward. “Come on. Come on, ride me. Fuck yourself on my cock like you know you want to.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice, just straddled Cartman’s thighs, facing the TV, his bent knees resting on the mattress. He lowered himself down and back up, head thrown backward to stare at the mirror. Cartman was flat on his back, eyes shut as he bit his lip. Kyle nearly came from the sight, then focused on Cartman’s hands which were trailing up and down his back ever so slowly. He rocked back and forth, feeling the cock ring brush against his ass as he ground down as far as he could go. His cock was leaking in his hand and his eyes were growing hazy. 

“God, I’m gonna... Kyle you’re gonna make me,” Cartman was saying, and then he words trailed off into loud cries as Kyle rode him faster, screwing his hips downward and clenching his ass while he fisted his own cock. 

“Shit, oh shit,” Cartman gasped as he came. Kyle felt crazed and couldn’t stop, just rode him harder. Cartman dragged his feet upward on the bed, bending his knees and tugging Kyle backward so they were chest to chest, lying flat. His mouth immediately started in on Kyle’s neck he covered Kyle’s hand with his own and slammed up into him. 

Kyle let loose a loud sob and met Cartman’s thrusts. “Fuck, wait, just,” he said, holding Kyle and sliding out. “Get the condoms.” Kyle reached over for the box while Cartman tied the used one off. “Hate this shit,” he muttered. So Cartman felt the same way. 

He took the new one and rolled it on while Kyle waited in position. Then he sunk down again and was pulled back to where he was, fully on top of Cartman, their legs bracketing one another. They both moaned as the rhythm picked up again, even more frantic than before. 

Cartman’s hand was back on his cock as he circled his hips again and again, Kyle’s body moving in time with them. Kyle heard commotion on the screen and looked up. “Thirty seconds,” Kyle panted, voice uneven, throat sore. 

Cartman pulled his face close, hand on his cheek and mouth at his ear. ‘How close are you?” 

Kyle laughed shakily. “Pretty fucking close.” 

“I want you to come as it hits one,” he growled, and started jerking him faster as the clock read twenty seconds. Kyle moaned as Cartman fucked up into him harder, slamming his hips upward, using the bed as purchase. Kyle felt himself tighten around him, his balls drawing up to his body. 

The countdown was at five and the crowd was going crazy as Cartman breathed against his jaw and kissed Kyle on the corner of his mouth. He let loose a muffled sob and came at the same time Cartman did. Their mouths met in wet, uncoordinated kiss, tongues lapping at one another’s lips and teeth like they were starving. Auld Lang Syne played in the background and somewhere between ‘“Should old acquaintance be forgot” and “Never brought to mind,” the kiss slowed, turning languid at the same time Kyle noticed their left hands had somehow become intertwined on the bedsheets. Cartman shifted and fell loose from his body. He tugged off the condom, threw it on the floor and shifted onto his elbow to look at Kyle, grinning. “Talk about entering the new year with a bang.” 

Kyle rolled his eyes and shoved at him, but soon fell into giddy laughter. They flopped down beside each other, shoulders touching. Kyle turned his body a little inward to Cartman and kissed his shoulderblades, his neck. 

“How soon before we can go again?” he said, feigning innocence as he bit Cartman’s shoulder. 

Cartman looked at him, eyes bright, and gestured down at his dick. “Bitch, please, I got the magic right here. Let’s do this.” He tackled Kyle and proceeded to prove that yep, his cock was definitely still hard. 

They fucked again, this time with Kyle on his knees against the wall at the head of the bed and Cartman behind him, pounding him into it, making the plaster around them rattle and the bed squeak with each and every thrust. 

“I feel bad,” Kyle panted, “for the people around us.” 

Cartman just fucked him harder, jerking Kyle’s oversensitive cock in time with his thrusts and licking at the back of his neck. “Don’t. We’re giving them a free show. Better than porn.”

Kyle’s head fell back onto Cartman’s shoulder. “Whatever. Just don’t stop fucking me.” 

“I’m pretty sure,” Cartman groaned, “if my pager went off right now even that wouldn’t make me stop.” 

“God, Cartman,” Kyle moaned, hair completely drenched, body slick wherever Cartman’s hands held him. They came again, bodies thrusting like wild animals. Kyle’s dick felt raw and used. They fell back onto the bed in a heap, bodies heaving and mouths gasping for air. 

They must have dozed off sometime after because when Kyle awoke they were still lying sideways on the bed and his chest was sticky. Cartman groaned at the same time, blinked his eyes open and said nothing, just reached for Kyle and then they were kissing all over again, hard and passionate like a realistic dream you’re just awakening from. He groped for Cartman’s dick, taking note the cock ring was gone. That was probably a good thing. 

“Do you wanna fuck me?” Cartman asked against his lips. 

Kyle felt himself freeze in surprise, his body responding to the idea even as his brain tripped over it. He pulled back a little. “Oh. Really? I just assumed you didn’t do that.” 

Cartman tsk’ed at him. “You should never assume, Kyle. Assuming made you believe you couldn’t fuck this ass. How tragic is that?” 

Kyle swatted at him and tugged so he could have access to Cartman’s ass, teasing his fingers along his hole. Cartman groaned at the touch and sucked hard at Kyle’s neck. 

They kissed and rubbed against one another before Kyle laid Cartman flat on his stomach and started kissing his way down his back, the lube and condoms next to him on the bed. He paused over his ass and then placed a kiss to one cheek, dragging his teeth along the soft flesh. He heard Cartman’s intake of breath. Kyle sat back on his knees and ran his hands over Cartman’s ass, roughly grasping the cheeks beneath his palms. He pulled them apart and considered it, even went as far to breathe over Cartman’s hole, but then stopped. 

“Sorry. I can’t. It’s just. We’ve been fucking for _hours_ , it’s...” 

Cartman groaned loudly. “Dude, are you sure you’re not a germaphobe?”

Kyle slapped his ass. Cartman looked back at him, eyes glimmering. “Alright, fine. You can do it tomorrow when I get out of the tub.” 

Kyle looked at him in horror. “Are you insane? Baths are the least sanitary ways to clean yourself.”

Cartman banged his head against the pillow. “Oh my God, so I’ll take a fucking shower, what-the-fuck-ever. Your tongue shall be in my ass, Kyle,” he continued, looking back over his shoulder again. “My ass shall be moist and wet and thoroughly fucked by the time you’re done with it.” 

Kyle felt his erection jerk painfully at the words. “Okay, alright, fine. Now just let me put my dick in you.” 

“No one’s stopping you, Jew.” 

The first slide into Cartman was incredible; tight, velvety heat swallowing him up. Cartman made the best noises possible and gripped at the mattress while pushing his ass backward. Kyle started a slow pace, lowering his body to Cartman’s and licking at his back and shoulders. 

“Faster,” Cartman said, and Kyle could’ve pulled the shit Cartman did earlier but he didn’t want to; he wanted to give it to Cartman exactly how he liked it. He reared back and slammed inside, bracing himself on his arms and fucking into him as hard and fast as he could muster. 

“Yes, oh fuck yes.” 

“Yeah? You like that?” Kyle breathed, covering his body against and screwing his hips tightly against Cartman’s torso. 

“Fuck yeah, Jew.” 

Kyle dragged his teeth along the back of his neck and reached around for Cartman’s cock, finding his hand already there. “Let me,” he said and then Cartman pushed up onto his knees and Kyle kissed the side of his face, fucking him deeper at the new angle, his hand flying over Cartman’s dick. 

Cartman came first and the clench of his ass around Kyle sent bolts of pleasure through every nerve ending of his cock. He came shortly after, groaning loudly and falling as dead weight onto Cartman’s back as he himself hit the bed. 

Kyle kissed his shoulder and got off the bed to dispose of the condom, grabbing the prior ones off the floor as he went along. 

He looked at himself in the mirror, took in the marks on his shoulders, the redness of his face and eyes, the mess that was his hair. He shook his head, amused, and walked back into the room. Cartman was face down against the pillow, snoring. Kyle touched his back briefly and then settled down into sleep. 

The next morning they had mimosas for breakfast because Cartman actually brought orange juice, the weird person that he was. Kyle’s ass was sore, so instead of fucking in the shower Cartman blew him and then made a show of washing his own ass and looking pointedly at Kyle. 

“Okay douchebag,” Kyle said over the stream of water and sunk to his knees right there. He pulled Cartman’s cheeks apart and let loose. The sounds Cartman made were insane and Kyle found himself loving it all. It was intimate in a way he hadn’t thought about, and heady too – the way he could make Cartman fall apart like this, at this _spot_ , with just his tongue. Cartman’s orgasm was a shock to them both it seemed, Kyle not even getting a hand on his cock. 

Cartman pulled him up and kissed him like a soldier just back from war. “You’re fucking amazing at that,” he said between kisses. “I’m gonna want it all the time now.” 

“I guess that can be arranged,” Kyle said, trying to sound put-upon but finding he was quite okay with the prospect. 

They ordered in Chinese for lunch, watched bad movies on cable and then Kyle fucked Cartman again, listening to Cartman breathe out his name and covering Cartman’s hand with his own over his cock, feeling the rough slide of Cartman’s knuckles beneath his palm. His heart leap in his chest and he closed his eyes against the feeling, biting down on his own lip as he came. 

Cartman drove him back late afternoon and came to a stop in front of his house. Kyle looked at him, that feeling creeping up on him again, something soft and foreign; something he hasn’t felt in years. 

“This was fun, dude,” Kyle said, clearing his throat. 

Cartman smirked at him. “Sex is always fun, Kyle. And if it’s not, you’re doing it wrong.” 

_I meant all of it_ , Kyle thought to himself, suddenly hyperaware of the way Cartman always seemed to reduce their conversations to sex, as if trying to reinforce that’s all this was, all they were doing. For a few moments there last night, Kyle thought maybe something had shifted… especially with the dinner. Whatever it was, he knew he hasn’t had this much fun in a long time, even when he’s pissed, even when he’s arguing. 

“Thanks again,” Kyle said, and placed his hand over Cartman’s on the steering wheel. Cartman glanced at it and Kyle couldn’t read the expression. 

Cartman moved his hand, dislodging Kyle’s. “Yeah, uh. I’ll call you.” 

Kyle got out of the car and watched him pull away, knowing with certainty that something had irrevocably changed and there was no going back now. 

________________________

The following week Kyle was shocked to find himself with not one but two job interviews from the batch of resumes he’d put out the week before Christmas. He’d also decided it was time to tell Stan. He’d known it was going to happen soon. It didn’t appear like he and Cartman would be stopping soon and especially after New Year’s Kyle had been feeling… almost guilty about it all. There were only so many times he could take Stan saying, “You must be so damn bored there,” while Kyle thought to himself, “Not really, I’m getting fucked on the regular.”

His interviews were Wednesday and Friday in Denver and then early Friday evening he was seeing a film with Stan. They always had a standing tradition to catch small films at the local indie theater as often as they could. This year Stan wanted to keep their normal week-after-New-Year’s-Day wherein they caught either a documentary or a smaller Oscar buzzed film that wasn’t getting mainstream distribution. Kyle knew he wouldn’t be able to face Stan again without saying something. 

The job interviews went as well as could be expected. Kyle hated the nervous energy that rose up inside him during them. He prepared his own questions on a small notepad and presented a mixture of passion and likeability. He couldn’t really get a good vibe off the interviewers – the second, the one he was most interested in, seemed to be more impressed, but it was all speculation. Kyle was pretty sure Cartman would have been able to read them. Cartman, who had fucked him in the shower the night before his first interview and then rolled his eyes when Kyle still insisted on leaving. He couldn’t help it … they may have done the sleeping over thing once now but not in Cartman’s house and not when they’d been anything other than fucked out from too much sex.

His boss wasn’t too thrilled with the short notice of which Kyle had to take off work but Kyle couldn’t really give a fuck. If he got fired, so be it – he’d still have his unemployment check. Besides, the main reason he even took the job was because he wasn’t the type of person to sit around and mooch off his parents while waiting for something to come around. At least he felt like he was making somewhat of a contribution in the world. 

Cartman had texted him after his first interview: **do you have a job yet?** To which Kyle responded he did actually have a job, selling video games to his fatass and no, he didn’t know if he had a _career_ yet. 

On Friday he had received a text before his interview that simply said **Good luck**. If he’d seen the text without knowing the sender he would have assumed it was Stan. Kyle had found himself grinning and wrote back his thanks to Cartman, and adding that he was meeting up with Stan afterward. He and Cartman didn’t have anything specifically set up but something had made him say it anyway. All Kyle got back in response was an “alright.” It had felt very un-Cartman like but he shrugged it off to him being busy at work. 

________________________

The interview ran late and he found himself running in his suit down the snowy streets of the city and into the cinema. He spotted Stan near the concession stand and jogged up to him, out of breath. 

“Sorry, they took me late.” 

They hugged hello and Stan held out a ticket. “No problem, I already got them for us. How did it go?” 

“Thanks. And pretty good, I think. We’ll talk about it later. Let me buy popcorn.” 

“And twizzlers.” 

Kyle grinned. “And twizzlers.” 

“I’ll grab seats.” 

The film was as good as they both expected. They went to a café, drank coffee, and discussed where it would rank against the others they’ve seen this year like true film snobs. Then they discussed the job interview. 

“It’s with a rival investment firm so it’s in my favor that I worked for the competition. Seems like I’d be a good in on what worked and what didn’t work at my old job. Plus he seemed impressed with my knowledge and experience at such a young age.” 

Stan smiled. “That’s great, man.” He placed his hand on top of Kyle’s on the table, and Kyle couldn’t help but recall last week in the car when Cartman had pulled his own away. “They’d be stupid not to bring you on.” 

Kyle swallowed hard, feeling he needed to just get this over with, and pulled his hand away. He pretended not to see the flash of hurt in Stan’s eyes at the movement. “So. Are you seeing anyone?” 

Stan shook his head, seemingly surprised by the question. “Nah. I’ve been really busy with this new project. You?” 

Kyle splayed his hands across the table and sucked in a breath. “Yeah, uh. Sort of.”

Stan’s eyes widened. “Seriously? That’s literally the complete opposite of what I expected you to say.” 

Kyle frowned. “Gee, thank you for your confidence in my appeal,” he responded, sarcasm heavy in his voice. 

“No, Kyle, shit, I’m sorry. You just caught me off guard. That’s great. Seriously.” 

Kyle’s heart still skipped a beat anytime Stan said his name in that soft, lingering way, so much feeling behind just four letters. It was ingrained in him. 

Kyle sucked in a breath and went for broke. “It’s... it’s just sex, really.” He tried not to examine the way the words produced a flutter of disappointment in his gut. 

Stan’s mouth dropped open. “That’s uh. That’s not really like you.” 

Kyle shrugged and averted his eyes. “I guess I’m trying new things,” he replied, a little defensively. 

He heard Stan sigh. “I’m kind of fucking up a lot here, aren’t I? I’m sorry, I just... I didn’t think you were even all that interested in sex for a while there. I know that’s my fault as much as anyone’s... it’s not like I really pushed the issue as much as I could have.”

The words were like a punch to his solar plexus. He looked up. “Stan, listen. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel... undesirable.”

Stan shook his head, eyes downcast. “It was as much my fault as yours. I loved what we had too much to... fuck with anything. Being your boyfriend who was 90% of the time just your friend was better than nothing.” 

Kyle couldn’t argue with that, not when he’d resigned himself to the same thing. “Yeah.” 

Stan took a sip of his latte. “So uh, you’re seeing someone in South Park, then?” 

Kyle licked his suddenly dry lips. “Like I said, it’s more fooling around, but, yeah, um. He lives there.” 

Stan nodded and Kyle could tell he was trying to get to a place where this wasn’t weird as fuck. “Anyone I know?” he asked, teasingly and Kyle wanted to floor to swallow him up. 

Kyle ran a hand through his hair and felt as though his heart was about to beat out of his chest. “Actually, yeah. It’s uh. Cartman,” he mumbled, staring at a spot on the wall behind Stan’s head. 

When Kyle finally did meet his eyes, Stan looked like a cartoon character whose head was about to spin around. “Ha. Okay, dude, pull the other one.” 

Kyle really, really wished for some type of natural disaster to occur. “Dude, I’m being serious.” 

He stared at Stan, trying to convey exactly how much he was not joking. Stan’s comical look darkened and his eyes grew a little harder. He leaned back against his chair. “Cartman,” he said, in disbelief. “Cartman,” he repeated, flatly, as if trying to make sense of the word on his tongue. “ _Cartman?_ ” By the third time, his tone had morphed into utter disgust and anger. 

Kyle wanted to bang his head on the table if it meant Stan never saying Cartman’s name again. “Jesus fuck, yes Stan. Cartman, Cartman, Cartman.” 

“Cartman,” he repeated again, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to Kyle. “You’re fucking _Cartman_ , Kyle!” Stan’s voice broke when he said Kyle’s name, just like it did when he was outraged as a kid. 

Kyle sighed and looked around them, noticing quite a few heads were turned their way. “It just sorta happened,” he whispered. 

“Jesus Christ, now I _do_ feel undesirable. Cartman? Cartman?! He was at the bottom of the list! The bottom, Kyle!” 

“I didn’t make that list,” Kyle pointed out, trying not to dwell on the way Stan was insulting Cartman’s appearance. 

“Oh my God!” 

“Stan, relax. You’re gonna fucking hyperventilate.”

Stan took a few deep breaths and a large gulp from his bottled water. “Okay. Okay, I’m alright. Just… _Cartman?!”_

Kyle sighed. “You already said that. About twenty fucking times.” 

“It bears repeating!” Stan shouted, and then held up his hands. “Okay, okay, sorry. Look... I get it on his end... he’s always been obsessed with you. I guess I just don’t see what you get out of this. Aside from sex, apparently. Oh my God, sex.” Stan looked nauseous by the end of his sentence. 

Kyle wasn’t sure how he could explain it to Stan when he could hardly explain it to himself. From Cartman he got… heat, engagement, energy, passion, stimulation, even a shit load of laughter. 

“He makes me feel alive,” Kyle settled on. 

He watched hurt flash in Stan’s eyes. “And I didn’t.” 

He knew that was coming the second he said the words. “God, Stan, I didn’t say that. It’s just different, is all. It has nothing to do with us, it has to do with _me_.”

Stan nodded rapidly, as if not hearing him. “What if I said I wanted you back right now.” 

Kyle reached over and touched his hand. “I’d say I think you’re asking for the wrong reasons.” 

Stan didn’t reply and they both knew it was too true. They sat in silence for a few moments, drinking their coffee and sneaking unsure glances at one another. 

Finally Stan said, “I’m not sure if I’m up for the whole ‘best friend who listens to you talk about the new person in your life and is terribly supportive’ role just yet. To be honest, I’m not sure I’ll ever be up for that with Cartman.” 

Kyle nodded, feeling his chest constrict painfully. “Because it’s him or just... because?” 

Stan sighed and scratched at the back of his neck. “A little of both?”

“If it helps, I probably wouldn’t be all that up for listening to you gush about someone new.” 

Stan’s eyes widened in horror. “Dear God, you want to _gush?_ ” 

Kyle’s lips pursed together before Stan started laughing. “I’m kidding, dude.” 

Kyle flicked a sugar packet at him and started laughing himself. They gratefully dropped the subject for a while. 

At Kyle’s car, Stan hugged him tightly. “I can’t say I understand this but… whatever, just be careful, Kyle. I’m sorry, but I don’t fucking trust him.” 

“I know what I’m doing, Stan,” he said into his neck. He almost believed it. 

________________________

At a traffic light Kyle put his Bluetooth in his ear and pulled up Cartman’s number. “Hey,” he said in response to Cartman’s greeting. “So I think the interview might have gone pretty well. I dunno, man, I don’t have your expert detective skills or anything.” 

Cartman snorted. “That’s for sure.” His voice wasn’t playful though; he sounded flat.

“Yeah, so. I guess we’ll see.” 

“I guess we will,” he replied, as if on automatic. 

Kyle frowned. “Uh, you okay, man?” 

“I’m fine, Jew. You’re interrupting my chance at being the next NBA superstar is all.” 

Kyle couldn’t hear anything in the background and Cartman loved to blast his videogames. 

He shrugged it off. “My sincere apologies. Want me to come over and make it up to you?” He let his voice grow a little flirty, hoping that would shake Cartman out of whatever funk he seemed to be in. 

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Cartman said and hung up. 

Kyle blinked in surprise and took threw his Bluetooth on the passanger seat. “And he talks about me being on _my_ period,” he muttered and hit the gas pedal harder. 

________________________

When Kyle arrived at Cartman’s place and rang the buzzer, he was greeted with a, “Yeah it’s open,” and then nothing else. Usually Cartman either came down or met him in the doorway. Usually, there was frantic kissing and groping and a handful of times even Cartman dropping to his knees before Kyle barely got the door closed. 

This time, though, Kyle opened the door to find Cartman slouched on the couch, legs spread, bottle of beer in his hand and an empty one on the table beside him. 

“Beer’s in the fridge,” he said, not looking at Kyle. Kyle said thanks, took one, and sat next to Cartman on the couch. He felt off-kilter. By this time, they’d always kissed already. Now Kyle found himself wanting to say hello but wasn’t sure how to do so. It felt weird to lean forward and press his lips to Cartman’s mouth or cheek; it was all so domestic. 

So he didn’t, and instead sat back and watched Cartman out of the corner of his eye as he resolutely stared at the screen. 

“You like this show now?” Kyle nodded toward the TV where _Family Guy_ was on. 

“People fucking change, Kyle,” he said but it wasn’t with malice or anger. He sounded tired, resigned. 

“Okay,” Kyle said slowly. “How was your day?” 

“Peachy, honey, how about yours?” 

Kyle’s jaw clenched. “I’m just talking to you, douchebag.” 

“Well you sound like some fucking housewife. I don’t want to talk about my _day_.” 

“Fine, I’ll tell you about mine then,” he started. 

Cartman raised his hand, stopping him. “I already know; you had an interview, you know nothing, it’s all ever so exciting.” 

Kyle turned to him, feeling the heat run to his face. “You know, you could be a little fucking supportive. This shit is stressful. When were you even _on_ an interview last?” 

Cartman looked at him for the first time and Kyle noticed the set of his jaw and his  
expressionless eyes. “If you’re looking for support you’ve come to the wrong person. Why don’t you ask the hippie? Oh that’s right, he probably already stroked your ego enough for the both of us.” 

“Fuck you,” Kyle said, anger boiling. He whipped his head forward to watch the TV, crossing his arms like a petulant child. He saw caught a sidelong eyeroll from Cartman before he stared at the TV as well. They sat in silence for long minutes, drinking their beers. 

Kyle felt overtly awkward and uncomfortable around Cartman for the first time since they started all this. Cartman wasn’t even laughing at the TV, just stared at it as though it were a problem. 

Finally Kyle couldn’t take it anymore and slammed his empty beer bottle down. “Look, there’s something I should probably tell you.” He’d been thinking about it the entire way over and even though he knew this was probably the worst time to do such a thing, he had to. 

“And what would that be?” He said, his tone bored, yet Kyle noted his fist was clenched. 

Kyle bit his lip and pushed onward. “I told Stan tonight.”

Cartman’s eyes flickered to him briefly and Kyle noted a hint of surprise before it was replaced by other emotions he couldn’t gauge. “Told Stan what exactly?”

Kyle sighed heavily, not in the mood for games. “About us.”

Cartman snorted. “What ‘us’? We’re just fucking.” His voice was cold. 

Kyle wasn’t sure what stung more, the words or the tone. He’d really thought something had changed last week. He thought maybe – but apparently not. And he was a moron for thinking otherwise. Besides, it wasn’t like he _wanted_ this to be anything more than that. Kyle wasn’t interested in another relationship – not when his life was already in turmoil and certainly not with Cartman. Yet even as he said the words to himself he felt the first twinges of doubt in the back of his brain. 

“That’s what I told him,” Kyle said back, just as cold, because after all it was the truth. 

He watched Cartman’s jaw twitch. “Kyle Broflovski admits he has a fuck-buddy. What do you want, a gold star?” 

Kyle shook his head incredulously. “You’re the biggest asshole there is.” 

“I guess it’s a good thing I leave my gun on the dresser, huh? Can I expect nighttime stalkerish visits and threatening phone calls?” Normally, the words would be teasing, flirty. Normally, they’d be shoving each other at this point and then clawing at one another’s clothing. But Cartman was closed-off and Kyle didn’t know how to deal with a Cartman who wasn’t the loudest thing in the entire building. 

“He’s not gonna come after you, dude,” Kyle said, his tone almost gentle. 

Cartman laughed harshly. “He wouldn’t last two seconds.” Then he was up off the couch and walking into the bedroom. 

Kyle sat there stupidly for a few moments before he realized Cartman wasn’t coming back out. He considered leaving, but opted to follow him through the open doorway. He found Cartman barefoot and lifting his shirt over his head, tossing it into the hamper. 

He turned and met Kyle’s eyes blankly. “I’m going to bed. You know where the fucking door is.” 

Kyle stood dumbfounded, mouth slightly parted as he started to grow angry again. “Cartman, what the fuck? Seriously.” 

“Oh I’m sorry – is there something you wanted?” 

Kyle took a step forward. “Yeah, I’d like you to stop being more of an asshole than usual and kiss me.” 

Something softened in his eyes, briefly, and then Kyle was yanked forward but the waist as Cartman’s lips crushed into his. 

“Kiss you, huh? Like this?” He murmured between the firm press of lips. 

“Yes,” Kyle gasped, feeling the sting of Cartman’s teeth. 

“Want me to bruise you? Bet Stan never did that, huh?” 

Kyle took Cartman’s face in his hands and held him still, meeting his gaze. “I don’t care what Stan did or didn’t do,” he said, pressing a kiss to Cartman’s lips. “And neither should you.” 

Cartman let out a guttural moan and swung Kyle around until he was on his back on the bed and Cartman was removing Kyle’s shoes, socks and dress pants in lightening speed. 

“This is a good suit,” Kyle moaned as Cartman climbed on top of him and proceeded to wrinkle his shirt, his pants already carelessly neglected on the floor. 

“I’ll buy you a fucking new one,” Cartman said, mouthing at his neck as he worked on the buttons. Once the shirt and jacket were gone Kyle worked to push Cartman’s sweats down while kissing his shoulders, his chest. 

Fully naked they rocked together, Cartman’s eyes locked on his, Kyle’s legs bracketing his body, one heel pressing the small of Cartman’s back as he licked a slow line up Kyle’s neck, claiming his lips in a bone-melting kiss. 

“Fuck me,” Kyle said, thrusting his hips upward, his palms running down Cartman’s back as he tried to press their bodies tightly together as he could. 

“Yes,” Cartman said, and reached over. Kyle followed his eyes, heart racing, his body on fire. 

Then he caught sight of the nightstand. “Oh seriously? God, Cartman, put the gun away.” 

“Heh. Not with Marsh on my tail now.” And there was the tone, perfect and everything Kyle was missing. He couldn’t hold back his laughter. 

Then Cartman was face to face with him again, moving a slick hand down between their bodies and Kyle’s laughter died away as he watched Cartman’s face. Cartman’s mouth found his neck as he worked him open and Kyle found his thighs lifting and his hands clenching on every bit of flesh he could reach. He was dimly aware this was different from all the previous times, and found he didn’t want it to stop. 

“Fucking amazing,” Cartman whispered against his ear, tugging sharply on the lobe. Kyle clenched around Cartman’s fingers and moaned. 

“Do it.” 

Cartman looked at him again, his face oddly serious. Then he sat back, rolled on the condom and some more lube and slid inside, holding Kyle’s legs up around his waist until he was balls deep. He drove forward and Kyle’s legs and arms immediately locked around him as their mouths met hard and fast, bodies rocking together. Kyle sighed against Cartman’s lips and pulled him impossibly closer, fingers skidding over damp flesh. Cartman’s mouth lapped at his neck, his teeth grazing just as his cock dragged against Kyle’s prostate. 

“Eric,” he gasped out, shakily, and didn’t realize the word had left his lips until it was too late to take it back. He felt striken as Cartman stiffened beneath his hands, pulling back to look at Kyle, his eyes wide and huge in the darkness. 

“Kyle,” he said, voice wrecked, expression focused and intense as he lifted Kyle’s leg higher and drove into him deeper, their gaze never breaking. “Oh fuck, _Kyle_.” 

Kyle exhaled unsteadily. “Fuck me, Eric,” Kyle said with purpose, watching Cartman shiver at the words and bury his face in Kyle’s neck, fucking him harder, faster. 

“Oh God…Christ, you feel so fucking good,” Cartman moaned wetly against his neck as his hand slipped between their bodies to jerk Kyle off. 

Kyle cried out, body arching into the touch as he kept repeating Cartman’s first name, unable to stop, his hands kneading at the muscles in Cartman’s back and over his shoulders, wanting him everywhere. 

At some point, minutes or hours later, it slowed; the rhythm, the air, everything and all was left was their eyes meeting in the darkness and the sounds of their breathing and near silent moans. One of Kyle’s hands slipped onto the sheets beside them and Cartman’s found it, lacing their fingers together as they kissed, mouths barely touching, just sharing breath. 

Kyle felt his chest constrict as he came, Cartman’s lips on him, drawing the orgasm out, his body shaking and tightening around Cartman. Cartman followed him seconds later, their tongues tangled together as he groaned and sighed his release. 

Cartman dropped down onto him and Kyle free hand held him in a loose embrace while Cartman’s tongue laved at his collarbone lazily. 

At some point their bodies and hands dislodged and Kyle found himself pulled back against Cartman’s chest as their bodies heaved and their hearts began to slow. 

Cartman’s arm wrapped around his waist loosely and all Kyle could think about was how they just did it exactly the way Cartman had previously insinuated it used to be with Stan. It made his throat clench and he wondered if Cartman was having similar thoughts. 

“Are you asleep?” Cartman whispered, his voice raw yet softer than Kyle could remember. 

Kyle absently ran his fingers up and down Cartman’s forearm. “No, I’m staring at your gun.” 

Cartman laughed quietly, and kissed the skin under Kyle’s ear. “If it bothers you so much, I’ll put it in the fucking drawer,” he whispered and Kyle felt his heart stutter. “Fucking pussy,” he added and Kyle laughed, completely unsurprised. 

“Don’t worry about it, fatass,” he said and went to move, only to find himself pulled back against Cartman. 

“Tomorrow’s Saturday. Go to sleep.” 

Kyle wanted to protest but Cartman’s arms felt too good around him and he was too boneless to move. 

He awoke later in the middle of the night and found his body turned to face Cartman. The streetlight streamed through the blinds and cast a shadow on Cartman’s face. He looked peaceful, almost innocent. Kyle ran two fingers down his cheek, listened to him snuffle and burrowed himself closer, rubbing at Kyle’s shoulder with his head. His arms were firm against Kyle’s waist and Kyle never had someone this strong hold him like this. He was shocked at how safe he felt. 

He closed his eyes and tucked his head against Cartman’s shoulder, wondering if they’d talk about any of the night’s events come morning. 

________________________

The next morning, Kyle awoke to a wet, hot mouth around his cock. He blinked sleepily, mouth dropping open on a shocked moan, and immediately carded his fingers through Cartman’s hair. 

“You like that?” Cartman taunted, voice rough with sleep while he lapped at Kyle’s balls and back up his shaft. 

“No, I hate it, you should stop,” he retorted but didn’t have the energy to roll his eyes; it wasn’t like Cartman was paying attention anyway. He felt a pinch to his torso and vibration of laughter around his dick. He arched his back, closed his eyes, and lost himself in the lazy, slow way Cartman was worshiping him, like this was his favorite thing in the world to do. 

He came in Cartman’s mouth on a low, keening moan, his hips jerking off the bed and his own hand dropping to the base of his cock, rubbing the space where Cartman’s mouth kept bobbing and retreating. 

Cartman plopped down beside him, his weight making the bed shake and dip. Kyle rolled over onto his side and watched Cartman lazily palm his erection. His eyes were heavy and lidded and his face was flushed. He still looked innocent, like when he was sleeping, if that were even possible. The thought caused Kyle to move in ever so slowly and bring their mouths together. Cartman made a soft sound and parted his lips, slipping his tongue between Kyle’s without intent. 

Kyle pulled back and made a face. “Dude, your mouth is rank.” 

Cartman rolled his eyes, exaggeratedly. “I was just sucking _your_ cock. Who is to blame for that?” 

Kyle swatted his ass. “It’s your rancid morning breath mixed with my come that makes me want to vomit.” 

“Oh my God!” Cartman exclaimed loudly and rolled towards the bedside table, popping a tic-tac into his mouth and crunching down on it obnoxiously. “You happy now?” he said against Kyle’s lips, hand low on Kyle’s waist. 

“Ecstatic,” he deadpanned, pressing into the touch ever so slightly and sealing their mouths together, their lips barely moving. 

Cartman reached over and hoisted Kyle on top of him, Kyle’s legs bent at the knee, straddling Cartman’s body. He felt the slow glide of Cartman’s cock between his cheeks as he slowly gyrated upward and pressed back against it. They kissed long and slow, Cartman’s hands on his thighs until Cartman pushed him back, holding a hand on his chest while he purposely rolled his hips upward. Kyle looked down at him, half-hard and breathing heavy. He could read Cartman like a book this morning. 

“Yeah, okay,” he said in a low voice, pressing his ass backward and making Cartman moan. He reached for the lube while Cartman grabbed the condoms. He was already greasing up Cartman’s dick and teasing his hole against Cartman’s cock before Cartman even had the package open. 

Then he was sinking down on his sheathed erection, his head thrown back while Cartman gripped his hips tightly. 

Kyle rocked back and forth, barely moving, Cartman balls deep inside him. Cartman’s hands traveled down to his thighs, practically petting him in slow circles. “Yeah, just like that,” he breathed and Kyle risked a glance at him, found Cartman’s gaze trained to Kyle’s face. He licked his lips and started jacking Kyle’s cock, now fully hard, in time with the set rhythm. 

Kyle started rolling his hips in broad circle motions while Cartman palmed his thighs and then his ass, spreading his cheeks even further apart with his hands. 

“Oh God,” Kyle said, and began jerking himself off to replace the loss of Cartman’s hand. 

“Say what you said last night,” Cartman whispered, barely audible as he thrusted upward. 

Kyle didn’t even need to ask; the request made his mouth run dry. 

“Eric,” he said quietly, fucking himself down onto him and quickening the movements of his hand. 

“Fuck yeah,” Cartman replied, dragging one finger between Kyle’s cheeks, feeling himself inside. 

A few more well-practiced movements and they were both coming, Kyle repeating Cartman’s name a few times, the words torn out of him while Cartman groaned loudly. 

He collapsed down on top of him, feeling heady and out of breath. Cartman slipped free and his hands came up to caress Kyle’s back. Kyle swallowed hard, far too aware of what just happened. Last night they did it face to face but at least it was mostly dark, at least he wasn’t exposed in the cruel light of day. Today, Cartman watched him, stared at him, and Kyle felt more naked than he ever had before. This was by far the most intimate twelve or so hours he’d ever spent with Eric Theodore Cartman and he should be running for the hills, shouldn’t feel like this was exactly what he wanted. 

Cartman rolled them onto their sides and kissed Kyle’s shoulder, mouth slow and lazy against his skin. 

Kyle exhaled sharply and once again pushed the thoughts away. “If you get us bagels, you might get lucky again.” 

He felt rumbling laughter against his back. “Is that a fact? My own personal whore.” 

Kyle pushed his ass back against him. “I reserve my right to be affronted at a future date when I haven’t just come twice in under an hour.” 

Cartman kissed his shoulder again. “You do that, Jew.” 

________________________

Kyle showered as Cartman went to get the bagels, because he felt gross. He stole a pair of Cartman’s boxers to put on, which were too big on him but they stayed up fine if he folded the waistband over. He fell back into bed and checked his phone. 

There was a text from Kenny: 

**dude stan shit a brick last nite**

Kyle groaned aloud and typed back **You didn’t say you knew, right?**

The reply was instantaneous. **no man i wouldnt blow up ur spot like that, told you that before**

Kyle breathed out a sigh of relief and typed back a quick “thanks” just as the door opened. He heard Cartman clanking around in the kitchen and decided to go join him. Cartman was making coffee when Kyle sauntered into the kitchen, stretching his arms over his head. Cartman turned casually, then did a double take and nearly dropped the coffee scoop. 

Kyle frowned and wiped at his face and hair. “What? Do I have dried come on me or something?” 

Cartman shook his head, as if to himself. “Nothing, you…” he turned back to his task and huffed out a laugh. “Your skinny Ginger ass looks ridiculous in my clothes.” 

_That’s not what you were thinking at all_ Kyle thought, and smirked to himself. He pinched Cartman’s sadly clothed ass and raided the bagel bag. He buttered one for himself and one for Cartman and it was all so oddly domestic. They ate in living room while watching _Dumb and Dumber_ on TBS. Then they played X-Box before they threw down the controllers in the middle of the latest NBA game and fucked on the couch. 

In a move of pure practicality they ended up back into the bedroom where Kyle found a missed frantic voicemail from his mom. He returned the call and elbowed Cartman to stop snickering while he promised her he wasn’t kidnapped by that North Park serial killer which, yes, was still on the loose. To quote Cartman, “Damn motherfucking Feds.” 

He tackled Cartman to the bed in mock-anger after the phone call ended and that was how round three started. He didn’t leave Cartman’s house until late that evening, and by the time he did he was boneless, relaxed, and slightly crazy about the one person he once swore he would never touch if his life depended on it. 

________________________

The next week brought an emailed rejection from the first interview he’d gone on the previous week. He felt slightly upset but he knew in his heart he wasn’t right for that job… it was one of those resumes you put out even though you weren’t even passionate about the position whatsoever. He had drinks with Cartman and Craig on Tuesday, not having told anyone about the response. He listened to them complain about the police station and for the first time thought bitterly, _at least you fucking **have** jobs_. 

Cartman kept giving him looks all night long, the kind of looks that translated into “I want to drag you into the bathroom and fuck you within an inch of your life” and they made Kyle shiver with want and shift in his seat. 

“How are things going with you, Kyle?’ Craig asked during their second round, right after Cartman had loudly proclaimed he would quit his job tomorrow if he could. “Found anything yet?” 

Kyle noticed the way Cartman’s jaw twitched at the question and frowned. “No, not yet.”

“Hmm,” he said, and looked back and forth between them. “I’m sorry, but am I the only one who sees this? Cartman, you’ve pussyfooting around the whole PI thing forever even though Gary said he’d help you with the capital. All you’d really need is someone to do the books and shit. Kyle, you’re, as Cartman would so beautifully say ‘a Jew who can do books.’ Seems logical to me.” 

Cartman nearly choked on his beer. “Craig, shut the fuck up. I repeat, no one likes you.” 

“Seriously, I can’t be the only one who sees this,” he said again. 

Kyle didn’t say anything. When they’d discussed it previously, it was clear Cartman had been joking about them working together but now… it did kind of seem to make sense. But, no. They’d kill each other. Besides, this was just a brief sidestep in Kyle’s life. He was going back to Denver, back to his life. 

_What life?_ a voice inside him said, but he shoved it down. 

“I need a license to be a PI,” Cartman said. 

“No, you don’t man. I looked it up. Colorado law doesn’t require it and there’s no business license either. You just have to get the business trademarked.”

Kyle looked at Cartman. “That wouldn’t take long. You can do it online.” 

“I don’t know the first thing about running a business.” 

“You always seemed to love pretending when we were kids, though,” Kyle pointed out. 

“That wasn’t real.” 

Kyle pretended to think about that. “Um, no, it kind of was. We had a talent agency, dude.” 

Cartman stared down at the table for a few seconds and Kyle could see the wheels turning in his head. “This is fucking stupid,” he exclaimed eventually. “I’m not gonna be a PI and Kyle sure isn’t going to stick around South Park, living with his _parents_ to be my _employee_.” 

Kyle opened his mouth to protest, but he wasn’t sure what he would say. He didn’t have to find out because Cartman loudly announced he had to take a piss and stormed off.

Kyle glanced at Craig sheepishly and shrugged. 

“He’s scared,” Craig said. “He thinks he’s going to fuck up.” 

The words hung heavily in the air between them and Kyle wondered if Craig deliberately intended the double meaning that Kyle couldn’t help interpreting. 

“Change is always scary,” Kyle replied, taking a long gulp of his beer. 

They drank their beers in silence for a few moments before Craig said, “Dude, listen, you could always stay on my couch if you wanted to like, get away from your folks.” 

Kyle knew what he was doing; showing them there were options. He was now absolutely sure Cartman had talked about Kyle to him – he just wished he were brave enough to ask what he’d said. For the first time in his life, Kyle Broflovski was scared shitless. 

________________________

Cartman barely waited to get Kyle in the door before slamming their bodies together. Kyle was more drunk than buzzed this evening and he clawed at Cartman, noting a sense of desperation in the air but refusing to acknowledge it aloud. He was practically naked before they even made it into the bedroom. In what felt like seconds, he was on his stomach, diagonal on the bed, with Cartman deep inside him, fucking him like he’d die if he didn’t. 

Kyle was reeling from the alcohol, from Craig’s words, from Cartman’s response earlier and he just wanted to let go, say what he’s feeling, and be wild.

Cartman’s lips were wet on his cheek as Kyle sat back on his knees and they rocked together. “Oh God. Yeah, baby.” 

Cartman’s hips stuttered from a moment and Kyle felt his breath catch as he tried to choke down the regret of saying the words. 

“Christ,” Cartman moaned and tightened his hold on Kyle’s hip. “You like my big cock in your ass, Jew?” 

Kyle didn’t want to stop. He wanted to be someone else for the night. Or maybe this was who he was… maybe he just never knew. “Yeah… fuck me with your big cock, God.” And Cartman did, holding him so hard he knew there would be bruises later and working him fast and deep. 

Kyle wanted even more, wanted everything. Because pretty soon he wouldn’t have this, right? It wasn’t like it was even an option. “You gonna eat that ass later?” 

He heard Cartman gasp and then he was being fucked harder, Cartman pressing him face first into the mattress and following him down with his body until Kyle could hardly breathe. 

“Fuck yeah. That freshly _fucked_ ass? That one? Cause it’s all mine, right?” He bit at the side of Kyle’s mouth as he said the words. 

_All yours_ , he thinks. _All yours until this interlude ends_. 

“Fuck, yes,” Kyle said, licking at his lips while he surged his hips backward. “God, you’re – fuck, you’re gonna make me pre-come… Eric…” 

“Goddamit,” Cartman said, and he sounded blown away, undone and started fucking him hard, making Kyle scream and writhe and moan on the bedsheets. He grabbed Kyle’s face, twisted it to him and kissed him hard and deep. “You’re a bit loud,” he murmured, voice breathy and perfect. 

“Mmm, so what,” Kyle slurred, laughing breathlessly. “Roger’s already heard us.” 

Cartman laughed in return and kissed him again. “You’re gonna suck my cock,” he gasped on a particularly long thrust, voice thready. 

“Oh yeah?” Kyle asked, his voice a little too high to sound doubtful. 

“You bet your fucking ass you are,” Cartman promised, skimming his palm over Kyle’s erection before pulling back, flipping him over. 

Kyle locked his legs over Cartman’s shoulders, unable to help his moan. “Fuck me.” 

Cartman slid back inside, mouth right against Kyle’s as he whispered, “Gonna fuck you so hard.” 

“Oh yeah?” Kyle taunted, legs on either side of Cartman’s shoulders. “Gonna blow your load in me?” 

He was taking all his dialogue from porno’s he watched with Kenny and Stan, he knew it, but at least they were good for something. 

Cartman slammed into him harder than ever and growled, “Gonna fuck you like it’s my job. You’re not even gonna be able to walk again.” 

Kyle groaned and came right then and there, without being touched. He clenched around Cartman and cried out as he was fucked into the mattress harder than ever before. It was dirty, insane, and hotter than fuck. It was the kind of fuck you had if you knew you were never going to see someone again. 

Afterward, wrapped around Cartman, sweaty and sated as Cartman snored in his ear, passed out with the condom still hanging off his dick, he discovered the mere thought of never seeing Cartman again felt like a knife to the gut. 

________________________

On Wednesday he a call from the second job, asking if he could come in tomorrow for a second interview. He didn’t tell anyone, didn’t want to jinx it. Once again, he couldn’t fully gage how it went. They told him they wanted to make their decision as quickly as possible, looking for as early as a Monday start. Kyle was thrown by that news but couldn’t exactly complain as he put “start date: immediate” on his application. The interview was less painful than he’d expected and before he knew it the Vice President of the company had shook his hand and thanked him for coming. The next day, he received a call while on his afternoon shift. He answered his phone and after a few seconds, wanted to throw it against the wall. 

He walked into the back room, took a few deep breaths and texted Stan if he could come out there tonight. He really shouldn’t be blowing the little money he had on another one-hundred and twenty mile roundtrip drive, but he needed to. The thought of staying here… 

Stan said sure. He turned his phone off and drove to Denver after work, getting caught in rush hour traffic and experiencing a significant degree of road rage which had less to do with being at a dead stop and everything to do with feeling like he was out of options. He’d really hoped this job was it. 

He met Stan and Kenny at their apartment. He told them what happened and they felt awful (even Kenny) and tried to cheer him up with ordering in pizza and wings and a marathon session of Arrested Development after telling him he can do better, he’ll find something better, they don’t deserve him. 

He thumbed at his phone absently during the night, well aware of the reason he turned it off: Cartman. They had made plans this morning. 

The annoying thing about driving into Denver is he couldn’t drink as much as he wanted to. He got into his car depressingly sober but feeling slightly better about things. Stan hugged him tightly at the door and said, “Take care of yourself.” His breath was hot in Kyle’s ear. 

When he got into his car, curiosity made him turn on his phone. He saw a number of missed text messages, sighed, put on his Bluetooth and called Cartman. 

“Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been texting you all night,” said Cartman by way of greeting. 

“Sorry, I… I forgot we had plans.” 

He felt guilty lying, but he just couldn’t deal with Cartman tonight. 

“Yes, Jew, we had plans. Plans like you fucking blowing me while I’m on this fucking horrible stakeout while Craig gets the fucking night off. Where the fuck are you, anyway?” 

“I’m in Denver.”

“Denver,” Cartman repeated flatly. “For what, your booty call?” 

Kyle was rendered speechless as he turned onto the parkway. That came out of nowhere and he was in no mood for any of Cartman’s games. “What? What the fuck are you even talking about?” 

“Whatever. What are you doing in Denver?”

Kyle ground his teeth together. “Visiting Stan and Kenny, _Dad_ , any other questions?” 

“Yeah, just one. Why the fuck am I sitting here alone instead of having my dick sucked, you fucking queermo.”

Kyle sighed. “Look, I’m sorry for not responding to your texts. I turned off my phone and didn’t want to deal with anything. I got rejected from the firm in Denver.”

Cartman paused for a moment. “And so… you went to Stan and Kenny,” he said, words not a question. 

“Uh, yeah? They’re my friends.” 

“And friends _always_ tell you the truth, don’t they?” Cartman taunted, the words mean and sharp.

“Look, I’m sorry for fucking up your dicksucking plans but this is what I needed… not someone who wouldn’t… ugh, nevermind.” 

“Wouldn’t what? Pity you? Because damn straight I wouldn’t and that’s probably what they did. They let you cry like the bitch you are.”

Kyle saw red behind his eyes. “Not someone who would call me a fucking loser and treat me like one too.” He didn’t mean to say the words, but there they were. 

Cartman said nothing but Kyle could hear him breathing hard through his nose. 

“Go to fucking hell, Kyle. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off the clock and plan to get my dick sucked elsewhere.” 

He hung up as Kyle was shouting his name. “Asshole!” he said, yanking his Bluetooth off and throwing it at the windshield. “Motherfucker!” 

Kyle drove home in a haze of anger, arriving after midnight. He tossed and turned in his bed, too angry to sleep yet fatigue eventually must have won out. He awoke with a start at the noise coming from his window and nearly jumped out of his skin as he saw a shadow easing open the glass. 

He turned on his light just as the figure got the window all the way open. 

“Cartman?!” Kyle hissed. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

Cartman grunted and hoised himself through, getting stuck half way. Kyle shook his head, then got up to help him, watching in disbelief as he tumbled onto the floor. “You’ll fucking kill yourself.” He looked out the window to find a ladder. He didn’t even ask where he got it from; this was fucking Cartman after all. 

Cartman looked up at him from his spot on the floor, breathing hard. “I used to do this a countless number of times. I could do it in my sleep.” 

Kyle looked down at him. “That is disturbing on so many levels.” He helped him up then sat on the bed, looking at Cartman patiently. 

Cartman stood, smoothing his hands over his pants. “I just wanted to clear something up and then I’ll be going.” 

Kyle laughed, slightly manic, and ran a hand through his sleep tousled hair. “Alright, just keep your damn voice down,” he whispered. 

Cartman looked away for a moment, then back at him, a determined look in his eyes. “I wouldn’t have called you a loser tonight, Jew. Would I have pitied you? No. Would I have let you wallow in your own self-pity? Fuck no. I know self-pity – I did it every fucking day of my adolescence and I’ve got a few years of therapy under my belt to know it’s not the way to go. What I would have fucking said… was that you’re better than them, they don’t fucking deserve you, and to stop being a whiny bitch and get back out there tomorrow. If Stan and Kenny told you that, awesome, more power to them. But I resent your earlier implication. That was weak.” 

And the thing was, they did tell him that. Yes, they let him wallow a bit, but they told him those things as well and now Kyle was faced with the knowledge that he could have stayed here and earned the same thing from Cartman – fucking _Cartman_ of all people. 

Now, he really did feel like a loser. Moreover, Kyle was rocked to the core, not only by the sincerity of Cartman’s words but by the admission that he’d been in therapy. He stared at his hands before looking up. “I was an asshole. I’m sorry.” 

Cartman waved his hand. “Whatever, it’s done.” Kyle watched the color run to his cheeks and felt a surge of affection blindside him. Cartman cleared his throat. “I’m out of here now.” 

Kyle felt a panic rise in his throat and called out lowly, “Can I have a raincheck on that blowjob or has the position been filled?” It was the closest he could come to asking if Cartman had hooked up tonight. 

Cartman turned back around, slowly. “The position is readily available where you’re concerned.” 

Kyle felt something unfurl in his chest, but still felt the need to push it, because he couldn’t just assume – I mean, they... “It’s totally cool, tho, if you uh, decide to fill that position elsewhere too. I mean, we’re just fucking around, right?”

It was better to just clarify. It’d originally been said this was a casual thing between them and… it was just better not to have any expectations otherwise. He was well aware it a chickenshit move. Cartman’s eyes narrowed slightly before his expression cleared. “Yeah. We’re just fucking around, Jew.” 

Kyle nodded, a little shakily, trying to not analyze the feeling in the pit of his stomach that was reminiscent of him not getting the job; disappointment. “I’ll text you tomorrow.” 

“Sounds good,” he replied, before climbing back out the window. 

Kyle watched him go and pretended to be happy with the clarification. This was just temporary. It was all just – temporary. 

Except for the fact that he went ahead and fell for Eric Fucking Cartman. He wasn’t sure how to make that into something non-permanent. 

________________________

Turned out Kyle needn’t worry about that as Cartman did a pretty good job of it on his own by ignoring Kyle’s texts for the next few days. Kyle could have just gone over to his place but he wasn’t a stalker like Cartman and didn’t like to show up somewhere uninvited. Besides, it’s not like he was pining or anything. He didn’t miss Cartman. He’d gone since high school without seeing him, surely he wasn’t going to start missing him after a few days. 

After four days of nothing, he texted Craig to ask what was up. His response was, **I dunno man, he hasn’t really been at work. Says he’s kinda busy with something.**. Kyle was pretty damn sure Craig ‘did know, man’ but couldn’t fault him for sticking to the bro code. If that made Kyle the “ho” in his situation… well, so be it. 

With his nights now mostly free, he found himself heading out to Denver on days in which he didn’t have work the following morning. It was nice to see Stan on the regular again, Kenny hardly around. 

When Cartman did finally text him, a week to the day later, Kyle went over and they had pizza and watched bad movies but it felt strained, awkward, and Kyle didn’t know how to get it back to being easy again. The sex was still hot but Cartman seemed more on edge, less playful, and he rolled away from Kyle for an immediate shower afterwards. 

“You should get going,” Cartman said when he returned from the bathroom, naked, rubbing his hair with the towel. “I’ve got some shit to do in the A.M.” 

Kyle blinked up at him, his gaze hardening, and slowly pulled on his clothes from where they were thrown on the nightstand and floor. He tried not to feel like a two cent whore but it didn’t help when Cartman just flopped down on the bed and made no move to show him out. 

“See ya,” Kyle said angrily and slammed the door on his way out. 

There was a text from Stan that he hadn’t seen and he smiled as he read it. 

**Dinner and movie at my place tomorrow night?**

**Love to** , he replied back. 

____________________________

The next day he worked till five, went home, showered, and headed out to Denver. He definitely didn’t think about Cartman. He was just going to enjoy an evening with Stan. Stan, who he’d had a ton of fun with the few times he’d seen him this week. Stan, who was uncomplicated and easy-going and knew him better than anyone. 

They sat on the couch, drinking soda, eating wings, and watching some Indie flick that took Sundance by storm last year. _Cartman would hate a film like this_ , Kyle found himself thinking. At one point, halfway through the film, Stan’s head rolled onto Kyle’s shoulder. Kyle smiled and reached up to ruffle his hair, only to find his hand gripped in place, fingers slowly caressing the skin. Kyle felt his body still but didn’t think much of it until Stan’s lips began to move on his neck, small kisses being placed above the collar of his shirt. 

“What… what are you doing?” Kyle whispered, as if talking louder would make this real. 

“What do you think?” Stan replied, half-amused. 

He dragged his teeth against Kyle’s throat and Kyle gasped and his neck arched on its own accord. 

He let Stan continue, closed his eyes and tightened his fingers on his own thigh. Then Stan was working his way up to Kyle’s mouth and kissing him shallowly, asking permission. Kyle didn’t open to him but didn’t shy away either and before he knew it he was on his back on the couch, having succumbed to Stan’s tongue in his mouth. His own hands ran up and down Stan’s back and he listened to him moan. It felt good, it felt better than it ever had before and Kyle wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the stigma of no longer being together, of having the _constant ability_ to do this that made it feel so hot. 

Stan bit at his lips and moaned against his mouth. “Kyle. _Kyle_ ,” he said and Kyle always loved the way Stan said his name. Like it was something to be treasured, laced with affection. Not like the mocking tone Cartman put behind it. 

Cartman. 

Kyle flashed to an image of him. Cartman’s hands rough on his hips, mouth on his neck as he said, “I love you like this” while Kyle’s legs were wrapped around Cartman’s hips as he surged upward for more. He thought of Cartman’s face when he smiled; a real smile. Thought of the way he’s covered Kyle’s hand with his own in bed, the way he looked at Kyle when he essentially made him confirm they were fuck buddies and nothing else. 

Kyle could feel Stan’s erection against him, felt Stan’s hand begin to slide inside his jeans. Kyle broke away and pushed at his chest. “No, I. Stan, I can’t.” 

Stan blinked down at him, mouth swollen and eyes heavy with lust. “What? Why not?”

Kyle sighed and looked away. “Come on, Stan.” 

He felt two fingertips trail down his arm. “I thought you said it was casual… dammit, Kyle, you don’t even _like_ him.” 

“Yes, I do.” He didn’t mean to say it outloud. Didn’t even know he had until he looked at Stan and saw the surprise reflected in his eyes. 

Kyle struggled to sit up, grateful for when Stan moved off him. He buttoned up his pants and straightened his shirt. “You’re just confused, dude. This was what you wanted, this break-up, and now you’re regretting it because there’s someone else in my life.” 

Stan laughed, a little strained. “Someone else? Dude, it’s _Cartman_.” His voice cracked at the end of it. 

“Things change, Stan,” he said, while gathering his coat. “People change.” He knew he was repeating Cartman’s own words back, but he suddenly realized how true they were. 

That’s when it fell into place for him; Cartman wasn’t the kid from elementary and high school. Cartman was a guy who’d trained to be a cop and had been in relationships with two other men while Kyle had been off at school and falling in love with his best friend. If there was someone who hadn’t grown up, it was Kyle. He’d never moved on from his childhood sweetheart while Cartman had been out experiencing the world and different people. Stan was his past, the comfortable one he knew and loved. Cartman was the one he never really gave a fair chance to (perpetually stuck on shit that happened in elementary school) and apparently still wasn’t. 

Now, here was Stan, asking him to revert backwards again, into something comfortable, something where there were no risks. Well, Kyle Broflovski wasn’t one to back away from a challenge. 

“You just want me back because you think you might not be able to have me,” he said as they walked to the door. 

Stan looked at him, searching his face. “So, this is it then? For real?”

Kyle nodded shakily. “Yeah…”

Stan hugged him. “I love you.” 

Kyle squeezed him back, tightly. “I love you, too. I always will.” 

“Gimme uh, gimme a few days or so, alright?” 

Kyle nodded, his face a little bit wetter from when he first began the hug but then again, so was Stan’s. 

________________________

Kyle’s phone rang as he was driving back to South Park. 

“Hey, Kenny,” he said as he put on his Bluetooth. 

“Kyle, dude, you need to control your boy.” 

Kyle frowned. “What..? I just left Stan, he’s…” 

“Oh my God, this is why I’m getting drunk dialed at 10pm on a Saturday. Your _boy_ , Kyle, not your _ex_ -boy. Cartman.” 

Kyle nearly swerved the car. Why were all the important phone calls in his life coming while he was driving? “He’s… what? He’s drunk-dialing you?” 

“Fuckin’ A he is. Going on and on about how he’s just a rebound fuck, you’re gonna be leaving soon, you’ll get back with Stan and have 2.5 kids and 2.5 dogs and really, dude, I never understood how you can have 2.5 of anything. I mean, bathrooms, I guess.” 

“Kenny! Oh Jesus, dude, are you high right now?”

“I am, Kyle. I most definitely am and this is harshing my buzz, so fucking hard.” 

“What did you say to him?” 

“I didn’t say anything! He left it on my voicemail!” 

Kyle drove a little faster. He’d already planned to head straight over to Cartman’s tonight but now he definitely was. “What else did he say?” 

Kenny’s voice was deeper as he began to speak and Kyle knew he’d taken another hit. “Said some shit about his own business and how it was a fucking joke that he was actually going through with it and you’d never, like, want anything to do with that or with him. He went on and on like a bitch, man.”

“Thanks, Kenny.” He hit the end button, mind reeling. He was an idiot, plain and simple. Too blind to see what was right in front of him. 

He did eighty on the highway, the sign welcoming him to South Park a blur in his rearview. 

________________________

It was drizzling by the time he parked in front of Cartman’s apartment. There was a figure sitting in the dark on the steps in front of the building, barely lit by the streetlights. As he neared he saw it was Cartman, bottle of Jack Daniels dangling from his fingertips. 

Kyle came to a stop a few feet away from him and looked down. “Why are you sitting out here in the rain?” 

“I’m becoming a cliché,” he muttered, slurring his words. Kyle could smell the alcohol from where he was standing. 

He crossed his hands over his chest. “I think it’s more like you couldn’t get up the steps. What happened to ‘I don’t get drunk?’”

Cartman glared up at him, eyes shining in the darkness. “Well I guess there’s a first time for everything! What are you even doing here?”

“I received a rather interesting phone call from Kenny.” 

Cartman scoffed. “Figures. Should never trust white trash.” 

“Is it true? Are you really doing the PI thing?” 

Cartman twirled the bottle between his fingers. “Signed the lease on a vacant building in town today.” He sounded vaguely chagrinned. It wasn’t like him. 

Kyle took one step forward, pride swelling in his chest. “I was just wondering, then… if you still needed a bookkeeper.”

Cartman eyes widened slightly and then he scoffed. “Please. I’m months away from this thing opening and I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing. Or why I’m doing it. You’re gonna keep living with Mommy and Daddy while you wait for something that might end up failing? That’s not very Broflovski like.”

“Maybe I feel like living dangerously for once,” Kyle said. He took another step forward and reached down for Cartman’s free hand. Cartman looked down at their fingers before blinking at Kyle through the rain which was now falling steadily. “I’m too drunk for this. Are you still talking about the job?”

“Everything. I want…” Kyle sighed and ran his fingers through his own hair. He wasn’t one for movie-like declarations in the rain. “Fuck it, I want you, okay?” 

Cartman shook his head. “You’ll be fucking miserable. Living at home all this time.” 

“Yeah well... Craig gave me an offer for his couch. I think I’ll take him up on it.” 

Cartman sucked in a breath and stood on unsteady legs. He dropped the bottle onto the grass with a clank and reached up to trace Kyle’s mouth with his fingers. “We’d drive each other crazy if we worked together.” 

Kyle’s tongue inched out to touch the digits, tasting rain and pot. “We already do. We’ll set ground rules.” 

Cartman groaned and removed his hand, stepping closer and curling his fingers around Kyle’s neck. “You’re gonna wake up tomorrow morning and regret you ever said this. And then hope I was too drunk to remember. This is just sex, right? I’m your rebound fucktoy--”

“Oh Jesus Christ, Eric, just shut the fuck up,” he yelled before throwing his arms around Cartman’s neck, surging up against him and kissing him deeply. Cartman stumbled a little at the force of it, but held onto Kyle tightly, hands locking around his waist. 

“I really won’t regret it,” Kyle said in between kisses. 

“You don’t make life-altering decisions like this,” Cartman moaned as he bit at his lips. “Back in town two months and ready to stay here.” 

Cartman’s lips were wet and cold but they still managed to set his insides ablaze.

“I needed a reason to come back,” Kyle said as he tugged Cartman’s lower lip into his mouth. 

Cartman groaned loudly and fisted his fingers in Kyle’s wet hair. “Fucking crazy about you, you asshole,” Cartman whispered against his mouth, sounding tortured, like the words were pulled from him unwillingly. 

Kyle smiled against his jaw. “Such a charmer.” 

They kissed for long minutes, the rain beating down around them before Kyle forced them to go inside.  
________________________

The next morning he woke up with Cartman curled around him, snoring against his neck. 

He didn’t regret a single thing. 

Kyle Broflovski was twenty-five years old and had thought he’d had his life all planned out. As it turned out, that was just a practice run. 

________________________

The End  
________________________

by eximoo: 


End file.
